"Snapshot"
By Dawson E. Rambo
Disclaimers: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, and other tangentially mentioned
characters are copyrighted by Chris Carter, TenThirteen productions, and
by Fox Television, a unit of 20th Century Fox, Inc. All rights are
reserved, and these characters were used without permission. No
infringement is intended.
Classification: V,MSR,A
Rating: PG (Some situations might not be suitable for all ages)
Just a little vignette (sp?) about what I always thought The First Kiss
would be like. This is mind-candy, folks, a little piece of fluff that
appeared in my head tonight before ER is due to come on. Some case has
just ended, one of those cases that takes a lot out of Our Favorite Duo.
I'm not sure what, if any, spoilers appear herein, but assume this
happened at the end of the third season.
If ya like it, cool. Relationshippers be warned. No sex, no violence. No
dirty words. No exploding liver- eating mutant serial killers. No
Scully-fu. No Mulder-fu. No Skinner-fu. If ya don't like it, that's
cool, too. Remarks, complaints, flames, etc. are welcome at
drambo@primenet.com. It has been left open-ended. If there is enough
call for it, I might write the next part. For those of you who have read
"Stalkers" and "The Seducer," I know I have a bad habit of leaving
stories unfinished, but this says "V" right at the top. :)
======================================================================
His need. His aching hunger. Scully had only to raise her eyes
to his to see the hunger that was slowly leeching the life out of her
partner...her friend. His hands were on her shoulders, the fingers
grasping tightly, as a drowning man might grip a life preserver. He was
neither pulling her closer nor pushing her away; Mulder held her like a
talisman against the wolves that lurked in the shadows, eager,
hungry...waiting. Waiting for Mulder to drop his guard, to relax for an
instant, just for that fleeting second they would need to do their dirty
work.
Time compressed. In the space between two heartbeats Scully
experienced a thousand emotions, most of them unnamable, images and
textures and sounds and smells...cases long filed away in the CLOSED
cabinet, moments between her and Mulder that seemed innocent at the
time, building blocks in the natural progression of their partnership.
Each shared moment a square in a quilt they used to blanket themselves
against the darkness and the coldness of the never-ending night. Scully
remembered all the touches, the seemingly indiscriminate glances of skin
against skin, the warm, soft pressure of Mulder's hand at the small of
her back as they walked along a corridor, the way his eyes twinkled when
he was teasing her, the small curl the corner of his mouth made when he
was getting ready to zing her with a question she knew she didn't want
to answer.
Unbidden, without Scully being aware of it, her hands crept up
from her sides, palms resting on his chest. She told her brain to send
the message to the muscles in her arms. All she would need would be the
slightest pressure, no more force than then a whisper, and Mulder would
pull away. He would feel her distancing herself, putting the wall back
up where it belonged. And as always, he would respect her position and
step away, trailing his fingers down her shoulder, across her arm, until
there was nothing left, nothing but a fat, empty space between them that
could be measured with a micrometer.
Mulder felt Scully's heartbeat through his fingers, her
lifeblood pulsing in some unnamed vein beneath his fingers. He was only
slightly startled to realize that his heart...somehow... had
synchronized with hers, and they were beating in tandem...as one.
"Scul-" he started to say, but before he could form the last
syllable of her name, quicker than Mulder had ever seen her move, Dana
reached up and put two fingers across his lips, silencing him.
"Shhhh," she whispered, afraid that if she actually spoke the
thought that was tripping across her mind that it would break the
fragile spell cast between them.
She leaned forward, turning her head to the side, placing one
ear against his chest. Once she was sure that he wasn't going to say
anything, Scully lowered her hand to his chest once again. She was not
surprised to find their heartbeats joined. It all made sense somehow.
In that moment, the complications erased themselves from
Scully's mind as neatly as if they had been written in disappearing ink.
Gone was the thought that two professionals engaged in the active
investigations of the paranormal should not feel the way that she felt
about Mulder and she knew he felt about her. Gone was the fear that if
her innermost thoughts, that little voice that spoke only in the wolf
hours of the night when the only thing to talk to was the cold pillow on
the empty side of her bed, were known to the Powers That Be that it
would be a matter of seconds before she and Mulder were reassigned to
different time zones. Gone was the fear that if they admitted what was
in their hearts, in their souls, that it would somehow compromise what
they had.
Dana smiled ruefully into Fox's chest. It was such a
contradiction, such a conundrum. At times, her relationship with Mulder
was so deliciously understated, the most important things being left
unsaid rather than said, the voices of their two souls speaking in the
spaces between their audible words. And at times, times like these, it
was so maddeningly frustrating...being unable to feel his arms wrap
around her, being unable to take solace and comfort in his warmth, his
stoic heroism.
Mulder dropped his chin, his view filled with Scully's coppery
hair, the scent of her shampoo, and faintly, beneath that, the flower-
spice-sand smell of Dana Katherine Scully filling his nose. He felt the
warmth of her pressed against him, not too much, not so much that his
body's autonomic reactions would take over and create a... pressing
embarrassment.
His mind was filled with images as well. Not the images that he
would have suspected when this moment finally arrived. Any man, he knew,
that was forced by circumstance to work in close proximity with a
beautiful, intelligent and just damn outright sexy woman as Scully would
have the occasional fantasy, the occasional daydream wondering What It
Would Be Like. It was human nature, after all, and no matter what else
had happened in the last four years, Mulder was reasonably certain that
he was, in fact, still a human being.
He turned his face to the side, pressing his cheek against the
top of Scully's head, feeling the spider's tickle of her hair against
his stubbly jaw. He sighed, not out of desperation or frustration, but
out of contentment.
Was the wanting enough? he asked himself. Was the simple fact
that he wanted Dana in his life in every single way possible enough? Was
it enough that she knew how he felt without either of the ever having
actually mouthed the words? Snide remarks and adolescent teasing aside,
Mulder knew that Scully realized how he felt, how important she was to
him. And her eyes had answered his a thousand times, speaking softly,
undetected beneath the argument and discussions and debates about
theories and procedures and whose damn turn it was, anyway, to do the
paperwork, or buy the pizza, or pick the rental movie.
She had become such an utterly required part of his life in
these 48 or 50 months...the mushy part of him wanted to sit down and
think about how Scully was his soul mate, his other half, the person
that completed him, that made him whole. But those were words, concepts,
constructs built by society in an attempt to define something Mulder
knew in his bones that was ultimately unable to be categorized,
quantified or explained.
Scully simply was.
They simply...were.
"This can't happen," Scully whispered. She felt Mulder move
against her, felt him starting to pull away. Her palms closed, catching
his shirt. She held him where he was, quickly adding, "No. Let me
finish."
Mulder froze, his mind in agony. He knew she was not denying
him, she was not pushing HIM away. She was not rejecting him as a man,
as a person, or as her partner. She was...what? His mind struggled to
find a phrase, a word, a description for what Scully was doing.
"It's not that I don't want....it," she whispered, struggling as
he was to find the words. "It's...just not time yet, Mulder."
When will it time? Scully's mind asked, but she had no
answer. "I don't know if there ever _will_ be a time, Mulder," she
whispered again, feeling the hot sting of the tears as they stared to
fill her eyes. "I have to believe that there will be a time and a place
for...this. Part of me wants it so bad I can taste it. I can see it in
my mind, every detail, every day and night spent together, our..." She
paused, feeling the word lodge in her throat, a huge lump she had to
swallow to speak around, "...love filling every corner of our lives. But
not yet Mulder...not until..."
And, astonishing them both, Mulder finished the thought.
"...we're healed."
Scully's head snapped back, her blue eyes tracking and locking
with his hazel ones. "Yes," she whispered. "That's it exactly. We're
both so..."
"...wounded," he finished. "Neither of us has..."
"...joy," Scully added. Mulder nodded. "Neither of us is ready
for the actual...maintenance of that...kind of relationship."
Mulder nodded. She saw something move behind his eyes, and again
unbidden, her hand reached up to caress his cheek. "It doesn't have to
do with Samantha...or Melissa...or your father...or my father, even."
Mulder nodded, his eyes encouraging her, begging her to talk it out, to
finish it, so they could put it in a box until they needed it. Until
they were able to deal with it the way it _deserved_ to be dealt with.
"It's not the lies and the secrets...or the shadow government
dogging our every step...it's not about who's apartment is less likely
to be bugged...it's not about Pendrall, or Phoebe, or Jack...or any of
the people in our pasts, Mulder. It's about..."
"...us," he finished. He lowered his head until their foreheads
touched. He closed his eyes, his whispers blowing warm breath across her
face, tickling her eyebrows and the fine, almost invisible hairs above
her upper lip.
"Don't you know how much I want to?" Scully asked, and then
answered herself. "Of course you do. I can feel it on you, Mulder. It's
caressing me...I can feel your need, your want, and it matches my own."
Her next sentence was spoken through gritted teeth.
"But. Now. Is. Not. The. Time."
Mulder chuckled against her. "Who you trying to convince,
Scully? Me or you?"
Scully opened her eyes and pulled back, her expression
beseeching. "Both of us, Mulder...I know you understand. I know you do."
Lips pursed, Mulder nodded once...twice.
"Yeah," he said, his voice hoarse, ragged. "I do."
Scully saw the pain rear up behind his eyes, and she knew it
wasn't the pain of rejection or abandonment. It was something else,
something so much more primal and animalistic.
"But before we go," she whispered, one hand sliding up over his
chest, across his shoulder, cupping his neck, "...just once. Just one
little one."
"A test one," Mulder offered, slowly lowering his head. They
approached each other slowly, by fractions of inches. Mulder noticed
Scully's eyelids drooping, her gaze focused on his lips. His entire body
trembled in anticipation, a tuning fork vibrating in syncopation.
They had never kissed before, Scully thought, yet we are doing
it as if we had a thousand times previously. And she knew, in both their
minds and hearts, they had.
Mulder waited until their lips were a scant inch apart, and then
whispered, "I love you, Dana," before capturing her mouth with his own.
Scully had intended it to be a little kiss, a slight pressing, some
gentle osculating, and then a quick parting so they could both go home
and dream about this kiss for the next month.
At the first press of his lips, Scully felt something inside her
belly uncoil and shift, sending slippery tentacles of warmth sliding
through her limbs. Her fingers, stroking the small hairs at the back of
his neck, felt charged...electric, somehow. A sound, the hungry groan of
a feeding animal, escaped her lips, and she felt herself slowly moving
closer to him, pressing her body against his.
The one hand still against Mulder's chest curled even tighter,
and she used the leverage to pull him against her, harder. The kiss
deepened, and Scully felt as if this was the only moment in time that
had ever existed; that every single thing in her life, every single
decision she had ever made, to go to medical school, to join the FBI, to
accept assignment to the X-Files, every little decision down to the
choice of which shoes to wear this morning had existed for the singular
reason to bring her to this time, this place, with this man.
Mulder's mind was spinning, and then slowly, the energy
rocketing across the synapses of his brain gathered into his cortex and
vanished into the bioelectric mist. Nothing existed but Scully's mouth,
the warmth and softness of her lips, the gentle, snug pressure of her
petite body against his. Gone were thoughts of his missing sister and
dead father. Gone were worries about the shadow government, Mr. X,
Skinner, the entire Federal Bureau of Investigation. There was nothing
but...happiness. Satisfaction. Completeness. They fit together like the
precision-machined interlocking pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Her lips made
for his, his for hers.
A moment approached, and they both saw it over the horizon of
their mind's eye. A point in time, a divergence in the reality of this
moment, and the harsher, starker reality of what could only be described
as "After." There was no yesterday, no tomorrow, only Before and After
this kiss. As he fell into the kiss slightly deeper, Mulder saw that the
approaching point was not a point at all, but a fork, a place where the
current path diverged. To the left, in his mind, was one possible future
After, to the right another. One choice meant giving up his pursuit of
the truth, his seemingly never-ending crusade to discover who and what
was responsible for Samantha's disappearance. On that path, the Kiss was
the first of many, a single step in the logical progression towards what
both their hearts wanted, what both their souls hungered for. It was a
life of home, hearth, family, children, normal jobs with normal hours,
the occasional barbecue, and buying a new car every five years. It was a
life of being together with Scully, as they were meant to be together,
as man and wife.
And at the same point, the same divergence, lay another path, a
path marked by the continuation of his quest, the endless pursuit of
what was right, what was truth. On that path, the Kiss was a singular
event, a cherished memory dragged out in the darkest hours before the
breaking of the dawn, a warm morsel of comfort and love to be secreted
and harbored for the storms that were to come. Their lives were to be
much the same, with a certain knowledge now possessed, but a life of
greasy spoons in far-away cities and towns, nights spent alone in hotel
rooms, clutching pillows to chests to ward off the cackling calls of the
spirits of the night. A chance to discover what he had set out to, a
chance, perhaps, after that, to circle around once again and take the
first path, the path that his heart truly wanted.
In the end, the decision was made for him.
Scully lightened the pressure and started to pull away, and then
came back at him again, her own hunger surprising her only for an
instant. Her mind saw the same point approaching, but the signs were
labeled differently. To the left, she saw them together, married, with
children and a home and a life, but she saw something else, she saw the
emptiness in Mulder's eyes, saw how he had abandoned Samantha for her
when he was so close, how he would always wonder if the tradeoff had
been fair, if had been just and right. She knew that on the surface,
they would be happy, they would be together as one forever.
But on the right, the other path, the other choice, in it Scully
saw what was to be, what had to be. The chase would continue, and they
would be together. Even though the temptation would be almost too much
to resist, she knew they would. The truth demanded discovery, and she
wanted to be by his side when Mulder did discover the truth. She wanted
to help, to give him all of her, all she had to offer, so that he would
once and for all quiet the demons that tormented his soul and raked
their slimy, razor-sharp fingers against his heart.
They parted, both of them breathing heavily. Mulder watched as
Scully licked suddenly-puffy lips, her hand coming up to wipe some of
the moisture of the kiss away. She cocked her head to the side and
reached up with the same hand, using her thumb to remove the small smear
of her lipstick that stained the corner of his mouth.
"Wow," he whispered, his eyes wide, his surprise and arousal
genuine and obvious.
"Wow is right, Mulder," Scully whispered. Mulder blinked, and
took a step back, turning away from her, going back towards his desk.
She reached a hand out and caught his arm, slowly turning him back to
face her.
"The most incredible moment of my life, Mulder," she whispered,
capturing his eyes with her own once again. She smiled softly, waiting
for his own return grin before continuing. "I can't say when it will
happen again...we can't go where we want to right now, Mulder...but when
the time is right...I'll be by your side."
"I know," he nodded, his hand aching to reach out and reel her
back into his embrace once again. "I know, Scully."
Scully smiled and tapped his chest with her palm once, twice,
and then turned to go back to her desk. Her trenchcoat and briefcase
were waiting, right next to her zippered laptop case. "Go home, change,
and pick up the movies, Mulder. I'll order the pizza for about an hour."
She turned to leave, not trusting herself to look back over her
shoulder. At the door, she paused.
"Mulder?"
"Yeah, Scully?"
"Two things. First...don't get anything romantic or mushy, all
right? I'm in the mood for something with a little action in it." She
heard an assenting, surprised grunt from Mulder.
"What's the other?" he asked.
Scully took a breath, and turned to face him. Even at this
distance, he affected her. She could feel his power, his electricity
reaching across the office towards her, dragging her back into his arms.
"I love you, too," she said, and then opened the door and
marched through, closing it securely behind her.
END---------
As always, comments, suggestions, etc., continue to be welcome:
drambo@primenet.com
"Snapshot II:After"
By Dawson E. Rambo
Disclaimers: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, and other tangentially mentioned
characters are copyrighted by Chris Carter, TenThirteen productions, and
by Fox Television, a unit of 20th Century Fox, Inc. All rights are
reserved, and these characters were used without permission. No
infringement is intended.
Classification: V+,MSR,A
Rating: PG (Some situations might not be suitable for all ages)
A continuation of "Snapshot," which received wide, critical acclaim.
OK...three letters. But they were all positive! :)
This is another piece of mindless fluff. No sex, but there is some
talking about...stuff. No spoilers that I'm aware of.
Several episodes referred to tangentially...but nothing revealed. No
mutant liver-eating serial killers. No Scully-Fu. No Mulder-Fu. No
Skinner-Fu. No Frohicke-Fu. No exploding alien larval hives. No empty-
eyed mute alien bounty hunters to spoil the fun. No quarantine-Fu. Heavy
discussions. MulderAngst. ScullyAngst.
Author's Note/Preface/Whatever : This is a continuation of my short
story "Snapshot," available on atxc, or by email from moi. It will most
definitely help for you to know what happened in Part I of this
potential saga, (a-yuh, right,) but suffice it to say that S&M exchanged
a rather...interesting kiss in their office, and have now decided to
repair to Dana's apartment for movies/pizza/beer and probably some
MulderAngst and ScullyAngst in the middle of this burgeoning MSR/SST
(Spoken Sexual Tension) story.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mulder closed his eyes the same instant the door clicked closed
behind her. He let out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding.
Staggering, Mulder made his way to his chair and collapsed into it. On
automatic pilot, his hand searched the small pile of sunflower seeds,
found one, and popped it into his mouth. Mulder stared at the wall,
focusing on nothing, seeing even less as his tongue chased the seed
around the inside of his mouth, trying to latch onto it, seeking that
satisfying crunch!
The thoughts and emotions swirling around inside his head fought
for attention, for primacy, for focus. He couldn't latch on to any of
them, so he just let them flow past in a rushing stream of feelings.
Well, he mused, things have certainly changed now. But how much?
It had always been there, they both knew. That certain something between
them, an unspoken bond, all the more powerful because it hadn't been
discussed and analyzed like every other facet of their relationship. It
had just grown over the days and weeks and months and years, until it
occupied the central portion of both their souls. It was a never-ending
voice for Mulder; he couldn't speak for Scully but he thought he might
have an idea of what she felt when she felt...
What? Love? That was the word they had both used, and Mulder
knew they had _only_ used it because it was the closest word to the
emotion, the feeling, the...bond that they shared. It was the only
English word close enough to even begin to describe the edges of it. It
was like trying to explain the shape and contours of a mountain by
pointing at a pebble. It was so much more than that...and, at the same
time, somewhat less, as well.
Just the one kiss, Mulder thought. That single, electric,
incredible kiss is supposed to last me...last _us_...until we find
Samantha. Until we uncover the conspiracy. Until it is all finally and
truly placed on public display. A single kiss, a stolen moment in a
shadow-filled office in the dank basement of a government building past
its' prime. He would horde that moment, Mulder knew. He would cherish it
in the center of his being, in the very core of his soul.
He closed his eyes again and leaned his head back, replaying the
moment over and over again in his mind: Scully lifting her face, her
eyes lasing in and locking on his, the small smile at the corner of her
mouth, the way her eyes were moist and full from the unbidden tears
directed at the unfairness of their predicament, the way she had softly
licked her own lips just before moving her head towards his, the way she
had tilted her face to the left just enough to make that first touch
against him so perfect.
His fingers remembered the silk of her hair sliding through
them. His tongue could still taste her breath. The kiss had been meant
as a talisman, a promise against the darkness of the nights to come. A
symbol, you might say, a simple, profound little nothing, two friends
sharing a moment of intimacy that was bound to occur sooner or later, a
little ditty that meant nothing at the same time it meant everything in
the world to Mulder.
He let out another deep breath and glanced at his watch. He
snapped upright, shocked to discover that over forty minutes had passed
since Scully had left for the night. She was expecting him at her
apartment in less than twenty minutes, and he still had to make a stop
at VideoHut and pick up a non-romantic, non-dangerous, action-filled
mind-candy spectacular.
Mulder grabbed his car keys off the desk and stood, snapping his
reading lamp off at the same time. Only Scully's light was still on. He
moved to her desk, reaching for the light -
And stopped. She was there. At least, some remnant of her was.
He could sense something in the air. A scent? Yes, a little something
still hovered over Scully's desk, a mixture of cinnamon, and another,
unnamed spice, and beneath that, a little lower down the olfactory
register, something more primal, more...Scully. Mulder felt the
intoxicating effect of Scully's vapor trail, and had to force himself to
reach over and turn her light off. He glanced at his watch.
Forty three minutes. Shit.
***
Dana Scully killed the ignition of her three-year old Toyota
Camrey, and glanced at herself in the rearview mirror. Something, she
decided, was amiss. Oh yes...it's that _smile_ on your face, Dana.
That's what's different. And almost as quickly as she had noticed the
smile, it vanished, replaced instead by an expression of deep
preplexion. Is that regret you're feeling, Dana? a little voice asked.
Second thoughts, perhaps?
No, she decided. Not at all. Not for a thousand reasons, none of
them good, none of them realistic or mature. All of them valid, though.
We can talk tonight, she decided. That is why he's coming over,
promises about movies and beer and pizza be damned. We both know that
we'll have to talk about it, to talk it out, starting around the edges
and moving closer to the center until they would finally manage to nail
the proverbial Jell-O to the proverbial tree.
And then what?
Life goes on as usual? Monday rolls around and the next case
pops to the top of the deck like some demented joker? God only knew what
was waiting out there for them next, and God wasn't telling.
Dana felt the pressure building inside her, felt the anxiety
pooling in her gut, slowly marching its way north, tightening her
chest and making her fingers tingle. The faint early throbs of what
promised to be a killer headache were already dancing behind her eyes.
Why, Dana? Why can't you just let it be? Why can't you just let
the Kiss exist in time as a perfect moment? It had been perfect, after
all, hadn't it?
Yes...yes, it had. The most perfect kiss Dana could have ever
hoped to expect from Mulder, or from any man. Someone had once said that
"...a kiss is both a promise and a lie." Truer words had never been
spoken, she decided. She had wanted the kiss, needed the kiss, need to
express something to Mulder that mere words hadn't even begun to
approach, a feeling inside her that had been struggling for expression
for as long as she could remember. So much had happened to them
together, as friends, as partners...as lovers.
Dana's head snapped upright. She'd been lost in her own gaze,
staring at the rearview mirror for the past ten minutes. Lover? Where
the hell had that word come from? Taking Mulder as a lover was about the
furthest thing from her mind, for God's sake!
Wasn't it?
Shaking her head, Dana sighed in exasperation and got out of her
car, double-checking to make sure she'd locked it. She walked quickly to
the entrance to her building, softly laughing at herself.
The little voice returned.
You said you loved him, Dana.
Yeah, she answered, but I love my brothers, too.
***
Mulder stood in the video store facing the Almost-But-Not-Quite-
New-Releases wall. He was at a loss. He could feel the cell phone's
weight in his pocket, and his hand itched to retrieve it and dial
Scully's number and ask her what movie she wanted to see. Everywhere he
glanced were romantic, lovey-dovey movies that Mulder knew neither one
of them could take right now. Clint Eastwood peered down from one box,
his arm casually draped over Meryl Streep's shoulder, the box copy
telling about a love affair that had spanned a weekend and lasted a
decade, about a love that could never be.
Jesus God, Mulder thought, turning his attention to Bed of
Roses, a Christian Slater-Mary Stuart Masterson number about a widower
and an orphan falling in love, and then out of love, and then back into
love amid the goings on of a Greenwich Village flowershop. The only
other choices available seemed to be horror movies about children's toys
coming amazingly to life and wreaking havoc or science fiction movies
about little green men.
Grey, Fox silently mouthed. They're little GREY men.
And below that, on the left, something called a Red Shoe Diary.
He wasn't quite sure what that was, but it definitely didn't
seem like something Scully would be interested in.
Oh what the hell. It wasn't really important what movie he got;
they weren't going to watch it anyway. It was an excuse to get them
together so they could talk. He grabbed the first movie he could find
and walked to the counter to pay.
***
Scully raised her face from the sink and looked in the mirror,
making sure she had gotten the last traces of makeup off. Satisfied, she
reached down and grabbed a scrunchy, quickly threading a ponytail. Hands
on hips, she regarded herself in the mirror. The Marine Barracks,
Quantico sweatshirt was comfortable and familiar. The FBI Hostage Rescue
Team sweat pants were equally soft and worn. Bare feet completed
her....outfit, and the overall effect was what she had been shooting
for. Relaxed, casual, but not sexy in any way, shape or form.
No use torturing the man, Dana thought to herself, grinning.
Who's kidding who, her mind answered a moment later. You want
him as bad as you hope he wants you, and you know it.
And there, my dear, was the crux of the problem. Scully thought
back to her last relationship, the last time she had been...
with someone, as the quaint phrase went. She could remember the
attraction, the arousal, the desire she felt for Jack. But that was
somehow less than what she felt now, today, tonight, for Fox Mulder.
Jack had been...chemistry. Physics. Motion times erotic force equaled
pleasure divided by regrets. Mulder touched something inside her, a
spiritual switch that Dana hadn't known she had until that maddening man
on the other side of her office had reached over and casually flicked it
ON as if he'd been changing the channels on a television.
Scully leaned on the sink and stared closely at her own face in
the mirror. At first, she remembered, the reception had been a little
fuzzy. The radar hadn't been picking up very well. Slowly, over time, as
the shared experiences built upon themselves, the signal got clearer and
clearer.
Scully couldn't remember a time when Mulder hadn't been in her
life, or in her heart. At first, she had attributed it to the natural
closeness that two partners shared...but her little voice, that damned
nagging little life-narrator who always insisted on inserting her
blithe, pithy little comments into every facet of Dana's life hadn't let
her get away with that for very long, no sir indeed.
They had never made love, and as far as Dana was concerned,
there was neither a rush nor any immediate plans to change that
particular fact. But one single truth remained: Despite the lack of what
could only be called the textbook description of physical intimacy, she
and Mulder _were_ lovers.
***
Mulder parked his car in one of the two open guests spots and
killed the engine. He grabbed the rental movie and headed into the
building, thumbing through the keys on his ring as he walked. Something
inside of him screamed for him to knock on Scully's door, to ask
permission to enter what was, after all, her inner sanctum. But he also
knew that he'd been letting himself in for so long that to change
anything now would send a signal to Dana that he'd rather avoid sending.
The key slid into the lock as if it had been oiled. The cylinder
turned, the door opened, Mulder entered the apartment, took four steps,
turned to see Scully walking out of her kitchen, locked eyes with her
and-
Was gone. The keys clattered to the floor, followed by the thump
of the clamshell video case. Mulder took a step towards Scully, she a
step towards him, and half a step later she was in his arms, her arms
coming around him, her palms flat against his back, pulling him _to_
her, against her, his own hands in her hair, finding the scrunchy and
sliding it off the ponytail in single, smooth motion, her hair cascading
around her neck, his fingers in it, his nails scraping her scalp,
sending a chill from the top of Dana's head to the tips of her toes as
she lifted her mouth to his descending one.
Dana's thoughts jumbled together, and then vanished as Mulder's
mouth captured hers once again. This time is was different...familiar,
but better, somehow. His lips were known to her now, but she wanted to
learn every single thing about them all over again, again and again,
every single day for the rest of her life. Her arms came up around his,
linked around his neck and pulled him down even closer. She felt the
hunger building inside her, threatening to rear up and take control, and
she pushed it back down, using every single possible control mechanism
she had, fighting it, wanting to keep it pitched at a certain level,
just under the boiling point.
Mulder held her in his arms, his hands massaging her back, and
then sliding lower. His right hand felt the curve of her buttocks, and
he lowered it, capturing her supple cheek with his hand and squeezing.
He felt her stiffen, and knew that it wasn't that she didn't want him
touching her there, but that she DID want him touching her there, wanted
him to take both cheeks in his hands, wanted him to palm them and
massage them and use them to pull her against his aching, pulsing need.
And that same silent, spiritual communication that they had shared from
day one telegraphed her real want, her real desire to prolong this
delicious tease as long as possible without going overboard, and he
obeyed that wish, surprised to discover that he wanted it too, that he
wanted to just kiss Scully.
As if this kiss could be called 'just' anything.
Scully's hands were at his jacket now, pushing it off his
shoulders. It fell in a dark grey fabric puddle at his feet as Scully
used her body to push him towards the couch.
The fell onto the couch in slow motion, a slowly collapsing
collection of knees and elbows and arms and lips. Mulder had his back
against the side, Scully shifting until she was almost on top of him,
her body trapped between him and the couch.
The kiss deepened, lengthened, grew and expanded. Everything
ceased to exist except her lips, the tickle of her breath on his cheek
from her nose, the way her fingers were running through his hair, the
way her other hand was on his hip, her fingertips just brushing the edge
of his butt, gently pulling him against her harder, more insistently.
Just as suddenly as it had began, the kiss ended. With mutual,
unspoken agreement, they broke apart, both of them panting, each of them
staring into the other's eyes. Mulder thought he had never seen a more
beautiful shade of blue in his life.
"Welcome back," Scully smiled. "I had no idea how much I..."
"...needed that..." Mulder gasped.
"...needed it, until I saw you."
"I know."
"Sorry, Mulder. I know I said only one..."
"One was never an option, Scully."
Scully bit her tongue and silently nodded.
Mulder was suddenly aware that the most significant evidence of
his arousal was pushing against her, and he moved, trying to relieve the
pressure.
Dana frowned. "Don't...don't move, Mulder. Don't deny it...
don't deny your wants. I need to feel that...against me. I need to
know it's there."
"Oh, it's there all right, Scully."
She smiled, a soft, embarrassed grin, and pressed her face
against his chest. Mulder was still squirming against her.
"Mulder, stop!"
"I'm sorry, it's just that-"
Scully reached down and took his right hand in her left, and
brought it to her waist. Lifting the hem of her sweatshirt, she slid his
hand underneath it, upwards, until his fingers grazed the bottom of her
breast.
Mulder gasped, his eyes closing. His arm suddenly stopped
moving, and Scully had to tug on it to accomplish what he had intended.
The hot, hard points of her own arousal were now pressed against the
palm of Mulder's hand.
"See? Me, too."
"Scully...please...this is...too...too much!" Reluctantly, she
let go of his hand, and a moment later it was outside her shirt,
resting on the relatively safe arc of her left buttock.
"We agreed," he started, and then stopped, knowing how absurd
that must have sounded.
"Mulder...it's all right. We need to do these things as... we
need to do them, I guess." She looked deeply into his eyes. "You don't
want to make love to me, do you?"
Mulder knew what she meant. "No. Not tonight. I mean...I do want
you, but I don't want to...not tonight."
"I know. We'll know when it's right, Mulder. And for tonight,
sitting here on this couch with you, feeling your hunger pressing
against me, feeling your lips on mine, feeling your fingers in my
hair...that's what's right for tonight."
Mulder returned her gaze for a long, silent moment, and then
nodded.
"Can't argue with that," he said, lowering his mouth to hers.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
End Part II
Email is encouraged. :) All kinds. Flames, comments, suggestions,
etcetera and so forth.
"Snapshot III:Decisions"
By Dawson E. Rambo
Disclaimers: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, and other tangentially mentioned
characters are copyrighted by Chris Carter, TenThirteen productions, and
by Fox Television, a unit of 20th Century Fox, Inc. All rights are
reserved, and these characters were used without permission. No
infringement is intended.
Classification: V+,MSR,A
Rating: PG (Some situations might not be suitable for all ages)
A continuation of "Snapshot," which received wide, critical acclaim.
OK...seven letters. But they were all positive! :)
This is another piece of mindless fluff. No sex, but there is some
talking about...stuff. No violence, although off-screen violence
committed by another actor is discussed. No spoilers that I'm aware of.
Several episodes referred to tangentially...but nothing revealed. No
mutant liver-eating serial killers. No Scully-Fu. No Mulder-Fu. No
Skinner-Fu. No Frohicke-Fu. No exploding alien larval hives. No empty-
eyed mute alien bounty hunters to spoil the fun. No quarantine-Fu. Heavy
discussions. MulderAngst. ScullyAngst.
Author's Note/Preface/Whatever : This is a continuation of a story
that was in itself a continuation of a story. This is part III of
"Snapshot," a little vignette (sp?) series depicting special moments
between our favorite duo. The first two parts are available on atxc,
or via email from moi. Anti-relationshippers be warned, there be
tygers here. The story thus far: Scully and Mulder have shared a
rather interesting kiss in their office, and expressed some pretty
deeply-held emotions for each other. They decide to meet later at
Scully's apartment for movies/beer/pizza, and when Mulder walks in the
door with the rental movie, all is forgotten once they lay eyes on
each other...this is what happens after "Snapshots II:After."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
They had finally gotten up to watch the rental movie. It was
one of those direct-to-video nightmares starring the younger brothers
and sisters of more well-known movie stars, and was filled with inane
situations, stupefying dialogue and plots that could have been figured
out in an instant if all the characters didn't posses sub-room-
temperature
IQ's.
Neither of them saw a single frame of the movie. Scully's head
was against his chest, her fingers making little circles through his
shirt.
Her eyes were glazed, unfocused, staring at some middle distance between
the television and her heart. Mulder's hand was at the back of her neck,
his fingers lightly grazing the skin there, the follicles standing at
attention, awaiting their orders from the army of goosebumps his touch
raised. Scully closed her eyes, wondering if it were possible for her to
actually start purring.
Her thoughts drifted back over the events of the last few
hours, and she felt herself snuggling closer to Mulder, the memories
making her want to be as close to his body as possible. For close to
an hour they had slowly discovered as much about each other as they
dared. They could feel that moment coming, slowly approaching over the
horizon, and they both knew that their promises to each other
whispered in the office might have to be broken, and soon, or they
might both go slowly insane. Pleasure delayed, someone once said, is
pleasure denied.
With a start, Scully realized that she was staring at a
television screen filled with nothing but the white snowy streaks of
static. The movie had ended, the VCR had auto-rewinded, and then
faithfully turned itself off. Without wanting to know what time it
was, Scully glanced at her watch.
It was half past nine, both too early and too late. Too early,
because Dana desperately wanted Mulder to stay, to stay all night if
he wanted. Almost too late, because if he stayed much longer, he would
want to stay all night, and they both knew what would happen if he
did.
"Mulder-" she said, moving slightly away.
"I know. I'm just about outta here, Scully. I just..."
She laughed softly. "I know. Didn't want to disturb me."
He nodded.
"Tomorrow?" she asked, the unspoken hope clear in her voice.
He shook his head. "I have to requalify. I've been putting it
off for months, and Skinner has insisted that I finally get it done,
or he's going to personally write me up."
"I could-"
"Scully...he's going to be there." Mulder paused, knowing what
he had to say next was going to be difficult for the both of them, but
he knew it had to be said, it had to be spoken aloud, brought out from
the soft, comfortable corners into the light. "Until we can figure out
how we're going to...deal with this, I don't think we should be near
ANY FBI facility together. We need this time apart, Scully...we need
to..."
"Decompress," she finished, nodding in agreement. She looked
away, suddenly feeling sad.
Mulder reached over with his free hand, his fingers finding
her chin. He turned her face towards him slowly, finding her eyes with
his. "You know there's no place I'd rather be than with you."
"I know." It happened again. Just looking at her face, falling
into her eyes, was all that it took. He felt his breath locking in his
chest, his aching hunger consuming him, drawing him to her, a
combination of magnetism and chemistry too powerful to resist. Their
lips touched softly, and for the first time, Mulder felt the soft,
moist tip of Scully's tongue slowly tracing the outline of his bottom
lip. The feeling was so shocking, so erotically charged that he pulled
back as if burned, his hand going to his mouth.
"Whoa," he whispered. Scully's smile was enigmatic, a sphinx's
teasing grin, promising so much more given half the chance. Mulder's
breath returned to him in stages. He closed his eyes, imagining that
warmth and silky moisture elsewhere on his body, and let out a deep,
shuddering sigh.
"I have to go...now."
He stood, holding out his hand. Reluctantly, Scully took it,
letting him pull her off the couch. He found his jacket and slipped
into it, his hand automatically going to the holstered pistol on his
hip, adjusting it, tugging it into position. He walked to the door,
stopping to bend down and grab his keys off the floor. He reached for
the knob and stopped, wanting to say something else, something more,
and found that the words in his mouth had deserted him as he felt her
arms circling his waist from behind, first her chin, and then the side
of her face against the middle of his back.
"I want you to stay," she whispered.
"And that's why I have to go," he answered, just as softly. He
felt her nod against him, and without looking back he turned the knob,
opened the door, and stepped out of her embrace. His steps were
deliberate as he walked down the hall to the stairs. He stopped at the
landing and turned back, knowing what he would see: Scully, holding
the edge of the door against her face, staring at him.
He felt the sudden urge to blow her a kiss, but didn't.
Instead, he smiled. Scully gave him a little wave and closed the door.
A moment later he heard the deadbolt snick! into place.
Mulder sighed and started down the stairs.
***
The Next Morning
Dana opened her eyes slowly, not ready to greet the new day
quite yet. In the hazy layer between sleep and wakefulness, she knew
that she had dreamed about Mulder, had dreamed about being in his
arms, had dreamed about the feel of his naked body against hers. She
woke to find herself clutching the spare pillow, and smiled at it,
wondering if she should ask if had been good for the pillow, too.
She sat up in bed, the sheet falling away to reveal her usual
sleeping attire: A VICAP T-shirt and a pair of USMC red running
shorts. Padding barefoot into the kitchen, Scully started the coffee
and headed for the bathroom, eager to get in the shower and start the
day. It was so rare that she had a weekend completely off, and Scully
wanted to take full advantage of the time.
The water was hot and plentiful, and before long the tiny
bathroom filled with steam. She slid the curtain back and got in,
letting the water hit her in the face and cascade down her petite
body.
Heat.
Moisture.
Standing there in the shower was like bathing in one of
Mulder's kisses, she thought, and immediately let out a giggle. God,
I haven't giggled since high school. But it feels so good to feel this
wonderful. I sure as hell don't know what tomorrow's going to bring,
but I do know that I feel wonderful today, and that's all that
matters.
Taking the soap, Scully started on her hands and arms, working
the suds into her skin, seeking that refreshing, clean feeling the
shower always gave her. She trailed the bar up her arm, into the
crease of her elbow and...
Suddenly Dana had an incredible body memory, a flashback to
the night before when she and Mulder had been on the couch necking
like a pair of hormonally-charged teenagers. He had been tickling the
palm of her hand with his fingers as his mouth had moved against hers,
tasting her lips, teasing them, and then his hand had slowly moved up
her arm, not actually touching her skin, just close enough to rake the
fine hairs on her arm backwards until his fingers had encountered the
crease of her elbow. He had traced the crease so incredibly gently, so
lightly that Dana had to concentrate to remember if he had actually
touched her skin, or if the heat from his fingers had somehow
transmitted itself to her body without physical contact. She
remembered the feeling inside her center, her core, as the heat and
moisture there had slowly welled up and consumed her, a melting,
dissolving feeling that had made her swoon.
God, had any man ever touched me like that before? she
wondered. Just that she had to ask that question made Scully smile in
the shower. Mulder had erased any memories of previous lovers. The way
he touched her...with respect, with consideration, the way he moved
with her, at her pace, never pushing, never asking for more than she
was willing to give, knowing that at any moment he could do something
to her, touch her in a certain way and she would dissolve into a
puddle of writhing, naked need...and yet, he waited for her to join
him in that place, that special moment when they would take each other
for the first time, when they would join as one-
The way his hunger fed off hers. She tried to remember the way
it was with Jack, and frowned. When compared to Mulder, Jack seemed
like a Neanderthal jackass. He'd been pushy, insistent, fully
expecting that Dana be ready for him, ready to join him in whatever
particular frenzy he was feeling. She remembered feeling rushed and
blaming herself, making if not faked, then at least exaggerated little
noises of pleasure during the entire ordeal.
Ordeal? She nodded dumbly in the warm stream of water.
Compared to Mulder, her time with Jack _had_ been an ordeal.
***
Mulder awoke to greet the new day in the same place he did
every morning: crashed out on his couch. But for the first time in
recent memory, he'd slept through the entire night. He glanced at his
watch and saw that he had about ninety minutes until Skinner expected
him at Quantico. That gave him about twenty minutes to shower and
change, get out the door, get some semblance of a breakfast and make
it to the range in time.
He bounded off the couch, shedding clothes as he went, and
started the shower running. Running some cold water to brush his
teeth, Mulder was greeted by a sight in the mirror he hadn't seen in a
while. An actual smile. It was small, a little teasing thing at the
corners of his mouth, more visible in the depths of his eyes than on
his face, but it was there. He could see it, could sense his own
happiness.
The water was warm and welcome, and Mulder luxuriated in it,
using the soap quickly, efficiently. He was washing his chest,
studying the way the soap made little fluffy bubbles in his chest hair
when he remembered the way Scully's fingers had teased him there
through the shirt, as if her fingers had wanted to burrow through the
material and reach skin. His morning erection, usually an unwelcome
visitor each morning, made a return appearance, bobbing back to life.
He considered doing what he had done on more than one occasion, as
many men had through the ages, considered taking care of the problem
in the quickest, most efficient way possible. But somehow, today, this
morning, that seemed like...
Sacrilege. Like it was somehow...cheating.
He didn't want to release that energy inside him, didn't want
to do anything that might cloud his spiritual connection to Dana. And
that, doing what was at the same time both natural and just a little
unseemly, might color the edges of what he was feeling, might somehow
cast an oily cast on the memories.
Shrugging, Mulder leaned forward and did what men in his
current predicament had been doing since the invention of inside
plumbing. He cranked the hot water handle all the way to OFF and
waited for the suddenly icy stream to do its business.
"Sweet Jesus GOD!" he screamed out, gritting his teeth, trying
to outlast the shivering. Finally, he cranked the cold tap all the way
to OFF, grabbed a towel and jumped out of the shower, his teeth
chattering.
The things I do for love, he thought, grinning as the word
made its way across the synapses of his brain. He glanced at his watch
again upon entering his bedroom, and saw that he had less than ten
minutes to spare.
He dressed quickly, selecting jeans and a turtleneck from his
wardrobe, and (thankfully) remembering his Bureau-issue Smith & Wesson
10mm pistol on the way out the door.
***
The FBI pistol range at Marine Barracks, Quantico, Virginia,
had been built just before the J. Edgar Hoover building, and it was
showing it's age. Thirty firing lanes, each of them with an electric
motor controlling a laundry-line-like assembly that held the targets
at the various ranges needed to qualify. Mulder quickly reviewed the
range safety procedures with the safety officer, and nodded as the
man explained what he would have to do.
"Ten rounds each within ten seconds at three, five, eight, ten
and twenty five yards. Then rapid fire, twenty rounds at the same
distance. Any score less than two hundred and eighty means you fail,
and have to requalify." The man looked at his clipboard, found
Mulder's name and frowned. "Although, according to our records,
Special Agent Mulder, if you fail to qualify today...we'll have to
make a call to your SAC and let them know."
"I know, I know," Mulder muttered, annoyed. "I've been putting
it off-"
"Well, no time like the present. Lane six is ready, Agent
Mulder."
Mulder nodded, taking the three boxes of ammunition the man
held in his hand. "Any last suggestions?"
The range safety officer thought a moment. "Pretend the target
is someone trying to hurt someone you love. That always works for me.
You've got five minutes to prepare, Mulder, and then the first whistle
goes. Get cracking."
Mulder walked to lane six, and opened the three boxes of ammo,
stacking the little Styrofoam carriers full of 10mm cartridges in a
neat little pile. He reached for his pistol and removed it from the
holster, thumbing the magazine release. The slim clip fell into his
hands, and he quickly thumbed off the ten duty rounds, rapidly
replacing them with the less-powerful qualifying ammunition. He loaded
his spare magazine as well, wanting that one full so he could
concentrate on the "basics" as he took his shots. He put on the
protective goggles, and then the muff-like ear guards.
'...imagine it's someone trying to hurt someone you love..'
the range officer had said. Mulder had no problem imaging someone
trying to hurt Dana. The list of those that had placed his partner,
his friend...his lover...in harms' way was seemingly endless, starting
with that-
"Ready on the left!" came the voice of the range safety
officer from a hidden PA speaker.
- black lunged -
"Ready on the right!" the voice continued.
- son of a -
"The firing flag is up, it is waving, it is down. Fire at
will!"
- BITCH! -
The whistle went off to Mulder's left, and the pistol was in
his hand, coming up, finding the target. The sights aligned themselves
automatically, and Mulder felt his finger taking the slack out of the
trigger, felt the satisfying kick of the pistol as it went off, and
saw the round impact the target not six feet away. He followed that
first shot with nine more, almost faster than his eye could track.
When the whistle blew again, signaling that ten seconds had passed,
Mulder had already re-loaded, and was waiting for the target to move
to five yards.
"Ready on the left-" the voice said slowly, carefully. Mulder
moved his neck from side to side, getting loose. His minds eye saw the
Bounty Hunter, that evil-looking spike held in one huge hand, and the
whistle went off again, and once more the pistol came up on autopilot,
found the center of the target and it went off, again and again, the
pistol kicking back against Mulder's body, his elbows flexing to take
the energy of the shot, not letting the barrel of the pistol rise more
than a fraction of an inch before bringing it back on target at the
same instant his finger pulled the trigger to maximum slack, wanting
the trigger ready for that instant when the sights lined up again and-
crack! crack! crack! crack! crack! crack! crack! crack! crack!
The pistol emptied, the slide locked back, smoke trailing out
of the open breech in lazy circles.
Mulder didn't hear, and didn't sense Skinner approaching him
from behind. He saw the target moving out to ten yards. His hands
quickly loaded the two magazines again, slapping one home at the same
instant his thumb worked the slide release. The gun was ready, heavy,
and warm.
"Hurt Dana will you..." he muttered, seeing Alex Krycek's face
on the target. "Fucking son of a-"
"Fire at will!" the voice called, and Mulder emptied his
pistol in less than two seconds, each shot finding its' intended mark.
Ten little holes opened what would have been Krychek's heart had he
been standing there. The target moved further out, out to twenty-five
yards, almost eighty feet. It was a little white rectangle bobbing on
the guide wire, and Mulder still didn't know that Skinner was standing
behind him.
He reloaded the pistol, aware that he was going to blow the
fucking target right off.
"I love her, you asshole," he whispered, once again seeing
that nameless chain-smoking-
"Fire at will!"
The gun emptied itself in less than two seconds one more time.
Seven seconds later the voice came over the PA again. "The firing flag
is down, repeat down. Safety all weapons, place them on the bench and
step back for scoring!" Panting, Mulder put the gun down on the bench
and
stepped back, bumping into Skinner.
Mulder turned, his arms already coming up, hands clenched into
fists, before he remembered where he was and who he was facing.
"Sir!" he shouted.
Skinner didn't smile and didn't frown. He just nodded at
Mulder. The range officer came over after a moment and reeled Mulder's
target back in. Mulder removed his ear protection and goggles.
He looked at the target in amazement. "Agent Mulder, you put
fifty rounds into this target. Forty of them into the X ring and the
9 ring. The last ten you put in the head." He paused, unsure of what
to say next. "Excellent shooting, Agent Mulder."
Mulder said nothing. He was staring at Skinner, wondering how
much the man had overheard.
"I think it's safe to say that Agent Mulder has qualified,
don't you?" Skinner said to the range officer. There was no mistaking
his tone, and the range officer nodded. "I'd agree, sir." Turning to
Mulder, he added, "That's all sir. I'll enter you as qualifying at the
expert level, Mulder. Again, Excellent shooting."
The range officer stared at the two men. They were obviously
not going to say anything while he was present, and he moved away,
curious as to what was going on.
"Agent Mulder," Skinner started, and then stopped. "Fox," he
said, knowing that using his first name would grab Mulder's attention.
"Join me for lunch."
"Sir-" Mulder started to protest.
"Please," Skinner said a little more softly. "I insist."
***
It was a burger-and-beer joint, complete with the multiple
televisions mounted on hanging brackets in every corner, each tuned to
a different sporting event. The two pool tables looked tired and worn,
their felt faded to the color of dried grass in a late August summer.
There were perhaps six or seven other patrons inside, all of them
watching the Redskins game.
Skinner and Mulder seated themselves at a small circular table
in the back, and waited for the waitress to come and take their drink
orders before speaking.
"Very good shooting, Agent Mulder," Skinner started. "You
seemed very...motivated."
Mulder said nothing, silently cursing himself for letting
anything slip in front of this man. He didn't know what to say, so he
said nothing.
Skinner waited for a reaction, and getting none, he frowned.
Clasping his hands together, he leaned forward. "Talk to me, Mulder. I
have to know what's going on."
"Nothing-" Mulder started to lie.
"Bullshit!" Skinner exploded, and then looked around,
wondering if anyone had noticed. "Don't give me that, Mulder. I heard
what you said. I was there. I was standing directly behind you. I
heard you say that you were in love with Agent Scully."
"Actually, sir, what you heard me say was that I loved 'her.'
I didn't say that I loved Scully, or that I was in love with her."
Skinner gritted his teeth. "Mulder, I'm not some junior G-man
or public defender that you can bullshit with your semantics. We both
know what you said -- if not the exact words, then the meaning behind
them. I'll ask you again -- talk to me. Tell me what's been going on,
and how long it's been going on. I'm only going to give you one more
chance."
"Give me a minute," Fox asked, pleading with his eyes. Skinner
nodded. Skinner's mind was not at all made up. He had been aware for a
long time that Agents Scully and Mulder were more than just partners.
He'd suspected once or twice that they were enjoying a romantic
relationship, but every time he called them on the carpet to chew them
out for some breach of Bureau protocols or procedures, he would see
the way that Scully's eyes would flash with anger and annoyance at
something her wayward partner had said or done, and those suspicious
would be put to rest. Put to rest, that was, until the next time
Skinner had an opportunity to observe them without being seen.
He'd seen the way they touched, the quiet little gestures, the
way they seemed to be able to finish each other's thoughts without
speaking. Then the suspicions would start to build again. They had...
something, Skinner was sure, and he was going to get to the bottom of
it once and for all.
"Sir," Mulder started.
"Mulder, call me Walter. This is strictly off the record."
Fox felt his eyes widening. If it was off the record, then
there was nothing official Skinner could do with whatever he decided
to tell the man. Well, not directly, anyway. All Skinner would have to
do was call the Office of Professional Standards. The FBI's version of
the Internal Affairs Divisions that plagued the cops of cities and
towns across the country, the OPE had a very...distinct reputation
amongst Bureau agents.
Mulder opened his mouth and began to speak.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
End of Part III.
Comments, suggestions, questions, etc. continue to be welcome.
drambo@primenet.com
"Snapshot IV:Discussions"
By Dawson E. Rambo
Disclaimers: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, and other tangentially mentioned
characters are copyrighted by Chris Carter, TenThirteen productions, and
by Fox Television, a unit of 20th Century Fox, Inc. All rights are
reserved, and these characters were used without permission. No
infringement is intended.
Classification: V+,MSR,A
Rating: PG (Some situations might not be suitable for all ages)
Summary : After sharing an intimate kiss in their office, Scully and
Mulder repaired to Dana's apartment to watch a rented movie, drink some
imported beer and consume some stale, cold pizza. Before any of that
could happen, they once again found themselves in each other's arms for
some serious kissy-face. The next morning, Mulder goes to the FBI
Qualification Range at Marine Barracks, Quantico to perform his yearly
pistol qualification, and while invoking the faces of CSM and Krycek on
the targets, proceeds to shoot a perfect score AND alert Assistant
Director Skinner that something is "going on" between Our Favorite Duo.
Skinner and Mulder go to a local Beer-n-Burger joint to hash things out,
and that is where our story picks up.
Ok...this is the continuation of "Snapshot III:Decisions," which was a
continuation of...oh, never mind. I've been writing these little
beginning-of-the-fanfic things for so long now they seem to write
themselves. ANYWAY, no violence, except perhaps descriptions of events
that happen "Off-screen." No adrvarking, to quote Joe Bob Briggs, but
there will be some sexual contact in the PG or PG13 range. Anti-
relationshippers be warned, there by tygers here. MulderAngst.
ScullyAngst. SkinnerAngst. Snuggle-Bunnies. No exploding aliens. No
green goo seeping out of orifices that shouldn't have green goo seeping
out of them. Gratuitous deep, soul-searching discussions about the
nature of Life, Love and Everything.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
"The thing of it is, sir..."
"Walter-" Skinner interjected.
"Walter, then," Mulder said, finding that the word didn't fit at
ALL in his mouth when referring to the man seated across the table from
him. The man was _BORN_ to be called either "Sir," or "Skinner."
"The thing of it is..." Mulder tried again, and discovered that
he couldn't find the words. As hard as he tried, he couldn't find the
exact expressions, phrases, words or sentences he needed to explain to
Skinner what was happening. Hell, Mulder thought, I'm having trouble
explaining it to myself, let alone Skinner!
"I don't know what to say. I don't know how to explain it. It's
not what you think, I can tell you that much."
"And what do I think, Agent Mulder?" Oh, we're back to Agent
Mulder now, are we?
Mulder straightened. This had been coming for a long time.
Skinner had always been a pain in the ass, even though his motives did
seem to coincide with the X-Files and Mulder's personal agenda. He was a
starched shirt, a "suit" in Bureau parlance, a man more concerned with
the rules and regulations than with getting on with the solving of the
case, than with the discovery of the Truth. His holy grail was the
Bureau Standards and Practices, the Operations Manual for Field Agents,
with the dozens upon dozens of forms and papers to be filled out. Cross
the T's and dot the I's, that was Skinner's Mantra.
"I have no idea what you're thinking, Sir," Mulder finally said.
Skinner cast his glance about, trying to find something to focus his
attention on for that five seconds he needed to gather his thoughts.
Returning his gaze to Mulder, Skinner began to speak.
"I've always known that you and Scully were different, Mulder.
I've never seen a pair of partners better attuned to each other than you
and Scully. I've never seen anyone have the abilities you two have when
you're together and operating on all cylinders. You have no idea how
many times I have argued your case before those above me that want to
split you up." He saw the look in Mulder's eyes and held up a warning
hand. "Not because of some shadowy government conspiracy, Mulder. No
one's pulling my strings that way. They want to split you up for several
reasons.
"The rumors are first on their list. Almost since your first
case together the rumors have been flying around headquarters about you
two. You do know that Scully's nickname is 'Mrs. Spooky,' right?" Mulder
nodded, not sure where this was going, but willing to let Skinner have
his say.
"I thought so," Skinner said softly. "The jokes and the rumors
are almost knee deep in the place, Mulder. But I knew, or at least, I
thought I knew you and Scully better than that. I thought you two had
more professionalism than to fall into bed together." He held up another
hand. "Please, let me finish. I'm not saying that I think you two are
doing...that. As far as I know at this point, you have an unrequited
love for Agent Scully, feelings that you have neither shared with her,
nor indicated in any obtuse way. As far as I officially know at this
point, you have only indicated that you love your partner."
He paused, thinking. "And after what you two have been through
over the past four years, I'm not surprised. Partners, Mulder, back each
other up. They cover for each other when necessary. They split the work,
the paperwork, the legwork, all the way down to who stays awake on
stakeouts and who gets to pick the radio station on road trips. I've
been in the field, Mulder. I was with the Bank Robbery squad in Los
Angeles and Kansas City, and with Counter Intelligence in New York. I've
had my share of partners. I know what it means to...love your partner."
Mulder's eyebrows crawled up, but he said nothing, waiting for
Skinner to get to the point.
"Dana Scully is...an incredible woman, Mulder. I know that. I
saw what has gone through the times when you've either been away God
knows where doing God knows what, and the times she's had to watch you
cling to life in a hospital bed. If the gossip can be believed, Mulder,
I don't think the poor woman's had a date in four years."
"Two." Mulder said. "She's had two."
"Be that as it may, Mulder, the point remains that she has...
melded with you, for lack of a better word. Her entire life is this job,
the Bureau, and most importantly, you. You are her entire world. And she
is yours.
"I saw what you went through when she vanished. I know how
deeply it affected you when she returned." Skinner paused and took a sip
of his beer, his eyes focused on the younger agent.
"I guess what I'm trying to say, Agent Mulder, is this. As long
as it doesn't affect your professional working relationship, I'm willing
to look the other way. As far as I'm concerned, it wasn't a matter of if
you and Scully were romantically involved, but when it would happen.
I've been giving this a lot of thought over the last year, and taking
all things into consideration, I'm of an opinion that doesn't
necessarily agree with published Bureau policies.
"I think it will make you and Scully even better at a job that
no one has ever excelled at the way you and Scully do. I have never seen
a pair of agents like you two, Mulder, and I know that I never will
again. So...keep it out of the office, and off the road, and I will look
the other way."
He paused. "But if I become aware of this relationship in an
official capacity, Agent Mulder, I will have little choice in the
matter. My protection can only go so far. If I have to 'become' aware of
this in the course of my duties as your direct superior and an Assistant
Director of the FBI, I will have to take action, up to and including
separating you and Agent Scully, and transferring one or both of you to
the opposite ends of the country."
He paused, took another sip, and then asked, "Do I make myself
clear?"
Mulder found that his mouth was dry. He sipped his own beer and
then answered. "Crystal clear, sir. May I ask....why?"
"Why what, Mulder?"
"Why are you taking this chance? It might come out that you knew
and did nothing...they have ways, you know, of-"
Skinner snorted, wondering at the never-ending paranoia of this
man. But, to give Mulder credit, he had more than enough reason to be
paranoid.
"Quite simply, Mulder...you and Scully belong together."
Mulder blinked at Skinner's words, trying to assimilate them.
"Yes," he said softly. "I know we do." He paused. "You know I'll
have to tell Scully...Dana about our conversation."
Skinner considered this. "Would you prefer me to speak with her
separately?"
Mulder thought about it for less than a tenth of a second.
"No...to be quite honest, sir, if this...topic were to come up with
Agent Scully and yourself, I have the feeling that she would be
mortified. Professionally embarrassed, no matter what the circumstances.
It'd be better if I...broke it to her."
"Well, whatever you think is best, Mulder. Just do me a couple
favors."
"I'm listening."
"First...take care of her. She's had a lot happen to her in her
life, and she needs someone like you. And second, no matter what you do,
don't let anyone else know. No one. I mean her mother, your mother, her
brothers...no one. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir. At least for now, I agree with that."
If Skinner took umbrage at Mulder's remarks, he didn't show it.
He finished his beer in two huge swallows, then stood to leave.
"Mulder, I don't need to tell you that there are people out
there that would take advantage of this information. Be careful."
"Sir," Mulder said, putting a hand out to stop him. "Thank you."
Skinner snorted. "Don't make me regret it, Mulder."
***
Dana had been reading a book...or more correctly, staring at the
same paragraph, lost in thoughts and memories of Mulder when the phone
rang. She snapped out of her reverie and reached for it.
"Hello?"
"Scully, it's me." She smiled; only Mulder's arrogance would
allow him to start a phone conversation with THAT phrase.
"What's up, Mulder?"
There was a significant pause.
"We need to talk, Scully." She felt her heart plunge and then
rebound, bouncing back up into her throat. "What's the matter, Mulder?"
"Not over an open line," he said, secure in his belief that
there were people out there using radio scanners to pick up cellphone
conversations.
"Ok..." Scully said. "Do you want to come over?"
"I'll be there in....forty minutes. Talk to you then." The line
went dead in her ears, and Scully slowly hung the phone back up. Oh my
god...what could have happened? Had he changed his mind?
Scully shut the book with a snap! and tossed it aside, drawing
her legs up underneath her. She was suddenly very, very worried, but she
couldn't place the reason for her concern. Trying to read Mulder's voice
was an exercise in frustrating futility. Only when they were together,
alone, did Mulder allow his emotions to come out in his voice. When he
wanted to hide behind his emotions, when he wanted to mask his true
feelings and meanings, there was no one that Scully had ever met that
was any better at it.
Suddenly, Scully couldn't sit still. She got up and started
pacing, Mulder-like, around her apartment. God, no, she thought. Mulder,
please don't let your paranoia and guilt ruin this! It's taken us so
long to get to this point...don't make me go back. I don't think I can!
How would she be able to do her job, sitting across the office from
Mulder, knowing what his lips tasted like, knowing what felt like to
have his erection pressed against her? How would _either_ of them be
able to function knowing how they felt about each other?
Scully glanced at the clock. It was just before eleven in the
morning. She had about half an hour, maybe a little more, and then
Mulder would be there to tell her...what?
The phone rang again. Dana dashed over to it, snatching it to
her ear. "Mulder! What is it?" she screamed.
"Dana? Honey?" It was her mother.
"Mom. Oh, God, I thought you were Mulder. Listen...I can't talk
right now."
"I understand, dear. Please call me when you can, ok?"
"Of course."
They fell into silence for a moment. "Is everything all right?"
Margaret Scully finally asked.
"Fine, Mom. I'll talk to you later." Dana abruptly hung up on
her mother and stood there with the receiver still in her hand,
wondering if she dared calling Mulder back.
No. He would be here soon. Do something, Dana. Make some coffee
or tea or read a book or do something.
Something!
***
Mulder parked his car in the same spot he'd occupied the night
before and bounded up the stairs to Scully's building. On the drive over
he'd decided that his discussion with Skinner was a good thing, after
all. It was, as far as Skinner went, out in the open now. As long as
they were discrete, they all but had Skinner's blessing.
Weird.
He walked upstairs to the second story and used his key to let
himself in. Scully was on the couch, legs tucked underneath her, calmly
reading Thorton Wilder's "Our Town."
"Hey-" he said, and then saw her face. Her eyes were red-rimmed,
and he could see the tracks on her face where her tears has slowly slid
her cheeks. She stood and walked over to him, sliding her arms around
his waist, burying her face in his chest.
God, he smelled good, she thought. Like sweat and his aftershave
and...gunpowder. Cordite. And Mulder. He smelled like Mulder, an
intoxicating scent she had come to crave over the last four years, a
teasing little olfactory treat that made her feel safe and alive
and...wanted. She could smell that on him, too. His desire, his arousal
at having her in his arms again.
"What?" she asked. The door was still open, but she had to hear.
She had to know what he wanted, needed to tell her.
"Scully, what's the matter?"
"Why don't you tell me?" she asked, her words muffled by his
turtleneck. "Tell me what's so important that you had to come over to my
apartment the day after we promised each other some room, what is so
important that you can't talk about it on an open cellphone line. Tell
me that you've...you've...." Scully couldn't finish the sentence aloud,
but her mind finished it for her. Tell me you've changed your mind
Mulder. Go ahead. Make my day. Break my heart.
Mulder reached out with his foot and used his heel to swing the
door shut, his arms holding Scully closer. "No...Dana, not that. Never
that." He reached for her face, tipping her chin up with his fingers.
"Nothing...no one...never...ever..." And then he kissed her, a soft,
gentle, soothing kiss that inflamed them both. Suddenly her hands were
gripping his back hard, pulling him against her. She broke the kiss,
moving her mouth to his neck, kissing him there hungrily.
"Now, Mulder. Take me into the bedroom. Make love to me."
Shocked, Mulder stepped back, holding his diminutive partner at arms
length. "Whoa...," he said, holding a hand up. "Tell you what -- let's
have our little talk first, and then...well...we'll see, Ok?"
Dana's eyes searched his, looking for the truth. He could never
lie to her, not when she was looking at him and he at her. There was no
way, now that they were alone, away from prying eyes, that he could hide
his feelings, his emotions, his naked, hungry need. She saw that in his
eyes, in the gentle crook of his smile, the way he looked at her,
through her, encompassing her with his loving, caring gaze. No, he
wasn't here to break her heart...it was something else, something
equally serious...and as Dana looked even deeper inside his eyes, into
his soul, she saw that it was something equally...dangerous.
And then she knew. Somehow, she knew. That silent, eclectic
communication channel between them opened again, and the emotional data
flew between two souls.
"Skinner," she whispered.
Mulder nodded, licking his lips.
"He knows," she whispered again. She turned away from Mulder,
making her way to the couch. "Oh my god...what are we going to do?"
Mulder moved towards her, taking her hands in his as he kneeled on the
floor.
"Look at me, Scully," he whispered. Slowly, Dana raised her head
and found his eyes. She saw the strength there, the resolve, and knew
that whatever happened next, two things would remain true: They would be
together, and nothing would ever eclipse their love for each other. It
was, as far as both of them were concerned, carved in stone.
They were a couple. A duo. A partnership carved in stone.
Nothing was going to change that.
"C'mere," she said, pulling on his hands. "I want you holding me
when you tell me what you have to tell me."
Mulder moved onto the couch, taking Dana in his arms, pulling
her against him. One hand went to her head, stroking her hair. "I guess
I should start at the beginning."
He proceeded to tell her the range officer's suggestion about
imagining someone trying to hurt someone he loved, and how that had made
him shoot the best score he'd ever had. And how Skinner was standing
behind him when he'd admitted to loving her.
"Ohhh, Mulder," Dana wailed. He could feel her tense against
him, almost as if she wanted to pull away. He held her tighter.
"Scully...it's all right. We went to lunch. We talked. He
understands, I think...even better than we do. He knows what we're like
together...and now that we've taken this new step...we'll be even
better."
Scully pushed away from him, her eyes wide, hopeful. "Y-you
mean?"
"Yup...as long as we keep it professional at work, and Skinner
doesn't become 'officially' aware...he doesn't care."
Scully sat completely upright. She ran a hand through her hair,
staring at nothing in the middle distance. "Well, Mulder," she finally
said, "If that doesn't conform to your definition of paranormal
phenomena, I don't know what does."
Scully turned to face a shocked Mulder, and after a moment, they
both burst out laughing. She collapsed back into his arms, still
laughing, snuggling her arms around him.
"Well, now what?" she asked.
Mulder grinned into her hair. "If I remember correctly, you said
something about making love...?"
Dana smiled into his chest. Good thing Mulder can't see my face
right now, she thought.
"Uh...Mulder..."
He chuckled. "I know...it's not the time." She smiled wider, a
genuine smile this time. "Stay right here," she said, getting up. Mulder
watched her vanish into the bedroom. After a minute or two she came back
wearing a fuzzy pink bathrobe. She was carrying a large bath towel. She
tossed it on the couch.
"You," she said, pointing a finger at her partner. "stink. You
need to take a shower."
Mulder nodded. "Sure, but why are you-" The realization dawned
him like a bubble popping. He could almost hear the poink! as the idea
slid into his head.
"That's right, Mulder..." Dana turned and walked into the
bathroom. Mulder was rooted to where he sat. He inched his head up over
the edge of the couch and turned to look into the bathroom.
Scully was leaning over the edge of the tub, adjusting the taps.
She cranked the knob over to start the shower, and then straightened,
pulling the curtain back.
She walked over to the door, smiled at Mulder, turned to face
the shower, and-
Dropped the robe. Mulder's eyes felt large enough to fall out of
their sockets right onto the floor behind the couch. He saw her back,
her legs, the soft curve of her buttocks, her dainty feet. Then she was
gone, vanishing behind the shower curtain.
For the first time in his life, Mulder actually audibly gulped.
He heard the lump in his throat working. Then a single slim arm appeared
from behind the shower curtain. The finger pointed at Mulder, and then
crooked once...twice.
Mulder stood, shedding clothes as he walked over to the
bathroom. In his boxers, he stood in the doorway.
"Wash your back?" he asked.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
-
END PART IV
comments, questions, suggestions, etc. to drambo@primenet.com
"Snapshot V:Discoveries"
By Dawson E. Rambo
Disclaimers: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, and other tangentially mentioned
characters are copyrighted by Chris Carter, TenThirteen productions, and
by Fox Television, a unit of 20th Century Fox, Inc. All rights are
reserved, and these characters were used without permission. No
infringement is intended.
Classification: V+,MSR,A
Rating: PG (Some situations might not be suitable for all ages)
Ok folks, this is part V in what is apparantly a never-ending saga.
Anti-relationshippers be warned: There be Tygers here. No actual sex,
but there are two instances of adult physical behavior, so be warned.
MulderAngst. A small amount of ScullyAngst. Snuggle-Bunnies. Promises
made, kisses stolen.
Lemme know if I should keep this going. Part VI is already on the
drawing pad,and when you see the ending to that part, you'll know that
part VII is "The One" that the dozen or so people that have been
writing me about this have been waiting for.
Again, I hope you enjoy this.
Dawson
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
The bathroom started to fill with steam as Mulder slowly
entered. He could see Scully's shadow moving behind the shower
curtain, her form casting dancing figures of shadows and light against
the translucent material. His eyes traced what he could see of her
figure, the gentle slopes and curves, the way her hips gently flared,
the narrowness of her waist. He could feel his heart throbbing in his
temple...and elsewhere.
"Mulder?" she asked. "Are you coming in or not?"
The conversations they'd been having over the last several
days came rushing back to him. In his mind he could hear her in his
office, softly protesting that it couldn't happen now, that it wasn't
the time. And later, other conversations as they gently kissed, slowly
discovering more and more of each other. He could describe, in
exacting detail, precisely how Dana's body felt against him. Her
clothed body, that was. This new step, this exciting, dangerous new
step, would tell him, and her, so much more. Every single pore and
fiber of Mulder's body ached to join Dana behind that curtain, to drop
his shorts and bound across the room, sliding under the hot water with
her, taking the soap from her hands, gliding it up and down her back,
her arms, her legs, the soft, silken expanse of her stomach, the heavy
weight of her-
Stop, Mulder thought, screwing his eyes shut. Stop it. Scully
was right. Now is not the time.
"Scully," he said softly, hoping she could hear him over the
rushing water.
"What is it, Mulder?"
"Don't take this the wrong way -- but I don't want to take a
shower with you."
His statement was greeted by a long moment of silence. "I
understand," she said quietly. "I'll be out in a minute." Mulder
nodded, and then felt inane because he realized she couldn't see him.
But she would know, he reminded himself. She would know. He turned and
walked back to the living room, stopping and stooping to get his
clothes. He dressed quickly, wanting a few minutes to regain his
composure before she emerged, scrubbed clean and smelling like that
shampoo she used that drove him slowly insane.
Mulder sat on the couch, slowly chewing his lip. He was sure
that there would be a day not too far away when he would mentally kick
himself for making this most recent decision. She would know how badly
he'd wanted to get in there with her, how much he wanted to discover
all the secrets her body and soul held for him, how much he wanted to
see her face as he discovered all her special places for the first
time. There would be only one 'first' time, he knew, and it had to be
special. Perfect.
Ten minutes later, Scully emerged from the bathroom wearing
the pink fuzzy bathrobe. She was rubbing a towel through her hair, her
lips pursed as she studied Mulder sitting on the couch. She plopped
down on the other end of the couch, not taking her eyes off of him.
"Talk to me, Mulder."
"It's not that I don't want-"
"I know that part, Mulder."
He paused. "I remembered what you said in the office, and then
again, later. It has to be the right time...for the both of us.
Rushing this...rushing what we have...I don't want to do that. It...
means too much to me. To us. Does that make sense?"
She grinned, flashing Mulder one of her famous heart-stopping
smiles. "Perfect sense," she agreed. She scooted over on the couch to
be closer to him. His hands were on his knees, and she reached down to
take one in both of hers. His hand was clenched, with anxiety, panic,
or some Mulderesque mixture of both of those emotions with a heapin'
helpin' of guilt. He didn't need to say a single word; Dana knew him
that well. He felt guilty that he'd to get into the shower
with her, that he'd to do the things she herself had asked
him, implicitly, to do.
She shook her head softly, slowly. The only man in the world
that has ever turned down an invitation to play WaterPark in my
shower, and it be the man I'm in love with, Scully thought.
She started massaging his hand, using her fingers to stroke
the skin of his palm. She rubbed her thumb in the webbing between his
thumb and forefinger, feeling the muscles relax under her touch. She
continued working his hand, moving to the fingers next, really
kneading the skin, getting as much of the tension out as she could.
Dana examined his hands, and tried to imagine what they would
feel like on her body. How they would touch her, stroke her, send
delicious shivery tickles of pleasure racing up and down her spine
until they detonated in starbursts of pleasure from her core,
expanding through her body like fireworks, each successive pleasure
popping off in series until-
It wasn't hard to imagine those hands on her body. It wasn't
hard to imagine those hands anywhere on her body, touching her softly,
grazing her skin, tracing tiny little circles at the small of her
back.
Dana had a sudden thought. "Mulder?"
"Hmmm?" he asked. He'd leaned his head back against the couch
to enjoy Dana's hand massage, and was just about asleep.
"I have a favor to ask."
Slowly, he opened his eyes, the lids flickering open heavily,
his long lashes reminding Dana of butterfly's wings preparing to take
flight. His hazel eyes found her blue ones, and she found herself
falling into them again.
"I think you should leave, Mulder," she whispered. "I want you
to go home and spend the rest of the weekend by yourself."
"That's your favor?" he asked.
"No, Mulder...that's not my favor. Monday I'm going to be at
Quantico, delivering that lecture on DNA typing for non-secreting
suspects. You do remember that, right?"
Sleepily, Mulder nodded.
"Well, Tuesday, we each have a full day. You have an
appointment at ten with the BSU folks, and I have one at noon with
VICAP about that new computer profiling software they want to try out.
But...what are you doing Tuesday night?"
"Um...nothing, I think." He considered for a moment. "Are the
Knicks playing?"
"Mulder, I'm serious," Scully said, pulling on his hand. "I
have a favor to ask."
"What, Scully?"
She paused. How to ask? "Umm..The District Physician's
Association is having their annual fund-raising thingie Tuesday night.
I was wondering if...that is, if you're not doing anything especially
important...I was...well, wondering-"
"Scully, are you asking me out on a date?"
"Yes, Mulder," Scully admitted. "I'm asking you to escort me
to the DPA banquet. Will you go with me?"
Mulder considered for a long moment, but Scully already knew
the answer. He hated the rubber-chicken circuit, and avoided most, if
not all, official Bureau functions that centered around banquet halls
and meals. But she had asked him, as a favor, and she knew he would
accept. She hoped he would, anyway, because if he didn't, it would
throw her plans for the next ninety seconds completely awry.
"Of course, Scully. I'll even wear a tux."
Dana smiled, knowing what she was about to do would blow Fox's
mind. "Good," she whispered, moving closer to him, close enough to
whisper in his ear, close enough so he could feel her breath on the
small hairs on his neck. "Good, because I want you to get an emerald
green cummerbund and bow-tie...I'm gonna be wearing an emerald green
dress, Mulder. It's not especially sexy or anything, but I do want us
to match."
Mulder gulped again. Jesus God, he thought -- how could
anything Dana wore be considered sexy??
"You got it, Scully. We'll talk about it later." He moved to
get up, but Scully pulled him back down by his hand. "Not so fast,
Mulder. There's one more thing...remember, in the office, when I said
that it wasn't time yet...that we needed to be healed before we could
go any further...?"
"Yes," he whispered.
"Well...I wish to amend my remarks...for the record."
"Agent Scully has the floor," Mulder grinned,"...and my
attention."
"Good," Dana whispered even more softly. "Because I want to
say that I think that you and I...this...us...is part of that healing
process, Mulder. I said that we needed to find joy before we could
proceed. In the last twenty-four hours I realized that you bring me
joy...and I bring it to you. We have found joy...we've just been too
afraid to embrace it. Too afraid of being split up if we cross that
line, too afraid of what Skinner would have done if he'd found out
that we're crazy about each other, what the FBI would do if they knew
two of their best agents are playing snuggle-bunnies." She grinned at
her own choice of words, and then went for the jugular. "Mulder... I
don't just want you to take me to that banquet. I want you to take me
home, afterwards...and I don't want you to leave."
Mulder didn't miss a beat. "No problem. I can always crash on
the couch."
Scully had known it was coming, and for once in their
partnership, she had the perfect response prepared, ready, waiting to
go. "Fine, Mulder...if that's where you'd rather be." And with that,
she took his hand and slid it inside her robe so quickly that Mulder
didn't have a chance to stiffen and pull away. She pulled his hand
against her breast, and closed his fingers around it. "While you're
crashed out on the couch, Mulder, I'll be in the bedroom."
She held his hand there for two long, heart-stopping seconds,
and then stood, walking around the couch, heading towards her bedroom.
"Go home, Mulder," she called over her shoulder.
***
Mulder drove home in a daze. He glanced at the dashboard clock
and saw that it was only two-thirty in the afternoon. He ran a hand
through his hair, wondering what kind of an insane person Dana Scully
had turned out to be.
Not that insanity was a thing, oh no. At least, not this
particular of insanity, he reminded himself. He took the hand
out of his hair and flexed it, looking at it out of the corner of his
eye as he did so. That was hand. The hand, to quote Jimi, that
had touched the sky.
God, he felt like a teenager who had
gotten to second base for the first time. It was all strange
and new and exciting and just a little dangerous. No, Mulder thought,
slowing down to take a right turn, it was more than a little
dangerous. Skinner had offered his unofficial protection, and despite
his own personal doubts about the man's agenda, Skinner had never gone
back on his word.
At least, not yet.
OK, pal, Mulder thought. Decision time. We're at a certain
point. We can stay here, go back, or...take the plunge. Go all the
way, to use a quaint expression that had been replaced by much more
vulgar, much more descriptive terms in the vernacular of the kids.
Could he...take that final step? Could they? Together?
Mulder's face was blank as he let his mind wander. The nickname he'd
earned while with the Violent Crimes Section of the BSU wasn't nearly
as "Spooky" when you understood how it worked. Mulder didn't use
voodoo or wiccan incantations or spells or magic potions. He hadn't
even thrown darts at boards or flipped coins when he'd been with
VICAP, as the VCS was more correctly known. He simply went into
himself. He found something to concentrate on, something to center his
energy and his focus on, and...dropped. It felt like that, sometimes,
like the ground opening up and swallowing him whole.
And when he was...there, "down the rabbit hole" as he liked to
kid himself, he was freed from the linear requirements of his thinking,
and free to use the spatial ability everyone's mind possessed. He was
able to occupy all the infinite points of his considerable mind at the
same instant. That was where the connections were made, was
when he was at his spookiest.
Mulder saw what he was looking for and pulled over to the
curb. He reached into the glove compartment and found the small brown
envelope. It wasn't sealed, and Mulder stuck it into his pocket, exiting
the car and locking it behind him.
The park was one of Virginia's more beautiful, with acres of
grass and trees and picnic tables. The park was about half full, with
clumps of people scattered here and there, some cooking on open
grills, some playing softball, a group gathered here and there around
a beer keg, laughing gently in the afternoon sunshine.
Mulder found an empty picnic table as far from the other
people as he could. He reached into his pocket and took out the small
brown envelope. Inside was a crystal on a chain given to him Melissa
Scully. He'd never worn it, but had found it useful for one specific
purpose: Finding his center.
He held it up to the light, letting the sun prism through it,
until the infinite spectrum appeared. He chose a color at random,
yellow this time, and followed it down. His eyes unfocused until the
yellow beam became his entire world, and with a sudden mental thump,
found himself dropping through the rabbit hole.
***
There was no color here, Mulder knew. It was white...pure,
snow-driven white all around. He had no body when he was here, no
arms, no legs, no limbs to speak of. His consciousness just...
on this plane, without the needs of a corporal body. His
thoughts were free, unfettered, able to run and jump and laugh and
play, free to find the connections, if they were out there. Free to do
what they did best. Search the dark corners, most of the time, looking
for connections between events best left unconsidered right now.
He walked down a mental hallway. His photographic memory was,
at times, a curse to him. When he was down the rabbit hole, he
envisioned his memory as a huge room, filled with six-drawer filing
cabinets, stacked three high, running down to infinity. They were all
labeled, organized, double-checked and cross-indexed. He could see
himself walking into that room, and approaching a cabinet.
He pulled the drawer open and pulled a file out. The folder
had no label, but he knew what was inside. He flipped it open and saw
Dana's face staring back at him. It was his first mental image of her,
and as he looked at it, it came to life, the mouth moving, the voice
animated, the life coming into her stunning blue eyes. He replayed
their first conversation.
"Funny," he voice said, out of his vision, "I was under the
impression that you were sent here to spy on me." The image began to
speed up, her voice taking on the countenance of a chipmunk, the
telltale squiggles of a videotape on fast-forward marring the bottom
edge of the picture.
Mulder didn't know why it happened this way; he only knew that
down here, in the rabbit hole, there was nothing but memories and
truth. The images flew by...a history of his relationship with Dana.
Every single memory that Mulder had of her was reviewed, scanned,
cherished and re-lived in the space between his heartbeats. When the
tape was done, the image in Mulder's mental hand was that of Scully
looking over her shoulder, dressed in the fuzzy pink bathrobe.
"Go home, Mulder," her voice said.
Mulder closed the folder and put it back in the drawer. He
reached into the rear of the drawer and took out another folder. This
folder was black. Even though there was no color in this place, only
pure simple truth and logic, Mulder knew it was black, for he knew
what it contained.
Opening this folder, he saw the image of Duane Barry. The
images this time were not like a video, but like a photo montage, a
slide-show converted to video. The images changed with the rapidity of
his increasing heartbeat. Donnie Pfaster. The Alien Bounty Hunter.
That black-lunged-no-named-son-of-a-bitch. A parasitic frozen worm.
All the monsters and evil bastards in his life...his and Scully's
life...blinked by in less than a second.
Mulder closed the folder, and a trash can appeared in his
vision. He threw the folder at it, and it sailed like a paper
airplane, carried on currents that didn't exist, until it fluttered
into the can. With a blink! the can was gone. Mulder felt himself
smile in the trance; he hadn't erased those memories. Such a thing was
impossible, no matter what he had heard about brainwashing technique.
The act of throwing the black folder away had been mostly symbolic. It
was his way of...
Finding joy.
One last folder to check. He moved to the front of the room,
to the top drawer on the first cabinet. He opened it, pulling the
first folder out, and carefully, gently eased the cover open.
Samantha.
Staring back at him, her face frozen in time. Unlike the other
memories, this folder wasn't cued up to start at the beginning. This
one was the reverse of the others; it started with Mulder's last
memory of Samantha, and when he pushed the mental PLAY button, that
tape went backwards, slowly. He waited until the bright light
vanished, until it was just the two of them in the house, the Stratego
board on the floor, the TV blaring the hearings, and then he paused
it.
If she were there, Mulder would have asked Samantha's advice
and blessing for what he was considering. But she was not, and he had
dedicated his life to finding her, finding the truth. And for reasons
that Mulder still could not fathom, Scully had decided to come along
for the ride. He wanted to ask the picture a question, remembering the
words of some poet from long ago: "A dream is a question the heart
wants to ask."
"Together," Mulder said to himself, inside the room, down that
magical rabbit hole. "Together we'll find you, Samantha. We'll find
the truth. I have help now. We have each other."
The picture said nothing. Mulder smiled at it, shut the folder
and replaced it in the drawer. He closed the door, and then
concentrated on finding his way back-
Up.
With an almost audible pop! Mulder was back in the world. His
arm ached from holding Melissa's crystal in the same position for so
long. He glanced at his watch... he'd been under for about four
minutes.
Long enough to do what he'd come there to do. He replaced the
crystal in its envelope, put the envelope in his pocket and started
walking back to his car.
For the first time in his life, Mulder whistled as he walked.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
END PART V
Comments, etc, continue to be welcome: drambo@primenet.com
"Snapshot 6:Dinner, Dancing & Delights"
By Dawson E. Rambo
Disclaimers: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, and other tangentially mentioned
characters are copyrighted by Chris Carter, TenThirteen productions, and
by Fox Television, a unit of 20th Century Fox, Inc. All rights are
reserved, and these characters were used without permission. No
infringement is intended.
Classification: V+,MSR,A
Rating: PG (Some situations might not be suitable for all ages)
No sex. No violence, although some is contemplated. MulderAngst.
ScullyAngst. MulderTux. Gratuitious Scully Dressed Up. You know the
rest. Write me if you want me to go on.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Next slide, please," Dana said. The light from the projector
vanished for a moment, and the room was dark once again. In the time
it took a heart to beat, the light returned, filling the screen at the
center of the conference room, pushing the shadows back and letting
Scully see what was before her eyes.
As she began to speak, another, more subtle portion of her
mind, that part not concerned with DNA fragments and forensic
pathology lectures began a quiet, rather lengthy discourse on the
similarities between a slide projector and her relationship with
Mulder. About how together, they could push the shadows back, fill the
center of their worlds with light and joy. And how everything could
change in the time it took for a heart to beat.
"...when you're talking about the base pairs in the sequence,
does that really have a significant investigative contribution?" The
voice filled Scully's ears, and she knew she was nodding, but she
didn't hear the question. The image up on the screen was an enlarged
screen-capture from a DNA mapping program that the FBI had devised to
help capture serial killers and other types of violent, repeat
offenders. But the only image in Dana's mind was Mulder's face.
"Excuse me? I'm sorry...would you repeat the question?" The
attendee did just that, and Dana forced her mind to focus on the
question, and then provided the answer as smoothly as she could. She
all but rushed through the rest of her presentation, wanting nothing
more than to get off the stage and do some thinking, some thinking
about Mulder.
But not the teenaged, moon-eyed, pie-in-the-sky cutsey shit
that she dreaded. It was just a little more complicated than that. And
at the same time, a lot less complicated than she wanted to admit.
After the presentation, Scully held an extremely abbreviated
question and answer session, and then as soon as was professionally
possible, she excused herself and went in search of a women's room.
Finding one, she entered the furthest stall from the door and
locked herself in, sitting down and letting out a deep breath. This,
she thought, this is why I didn't want to get involved with
Mulder. He's filling my every thought, my every dream, my every
everything! I can't even give a lecture on DNA forensic technique
without seeing his face up on the damn screen! Even now, as upset as I
am, I can't stop thinking...
The problem, as Dana saw it, had two facets. On the one hand,
the simpler hand, the quicker she and Mulder slept together, the
better. The mystery would be gone, the tease would be over, and they
could go on to whatever came after. There wouldn't be this agonizing
anticipation, this...hormone storm that brought back some of the most
troubling memories of high school that Dana had. Memories of wanting
to have a boyfriend, wanting to be one of the popular girls whose
phones were always ringing, wanting to always have a date on Friday
and Saturday nights. That overcharged teenage angst was making a huge,
huge comeback in Dana Scully's life, and she it.
She knew that Mulder loved her, that Mulder wanted her just as
bad, if not more, as she wanted him. She had no doubt of his feelings,
his desire, his hunger for her. What was driving her insane was that
her body didn't care about any of that. Her heart wanted attention
NOW.
Face it, Dana, she thought. You've got a super-duper, Grade A,
Number One case of the Hornies. She sighed, dropping her head into her
hands. And, on the surface, there's nothing wrong with that. People
get...horny...all the time. It's one of the greatest things about
being in a relationship. About being human, for God's sake.
But it wasn't quite that easy. Dana had one small fear, one
nagging, quibbling little doubt that was gnawing at her. What if...
finally taking Mulder into her bed didn't solve the problem? What if
it only made it...God forbid...worse? What if it was so good, so
perfect, so incredibly profound that she became a zombie? A walking,
lurching, stretched-arm slave to the God of Sex?
Gimmie a break! she thought, trying to find a laugh somewhere
inside herself. An errant lock of hair fell across her eyes, and she
blew at it, trying to get a handle on her feelings. Dana checked her
watch. It was a little before four. Time to call it a day and go home.
Go home, take a nice, long hot bath, read a good book, and try and
forget that she had a date with Mulder for tomorrow night, a date that
would, for better or worse, change her life forever.
***
"Do you dress right or left, sir?" the tailor asked. Mulder
looked up from examining his shoes into the man's eyes and asked,
"Excuse me?"
"Do you dress...is this your first tuxedo, sir?"
"Well...this is my first since the prom, I guess." The tailor
nodded, suddenly understanding.
"I see. Well...perhaps I'll just make allowances for both."
The tailor squatted and began working on Mulder again, using his tape
measure, hand-held chalk and pincushion to great effect. Mulder had no
idea what the man was doing, but he had to admit, he did look like he
knew he was doing.
"And it'll be ready by tomorrow night?" Mulder asked for the
sixth time, by the tailor's count.
"Yes, sir."
"Can I ask you a question?"
"Of course, sir."
"How much extra would it be if I just waited around here
tonight for it?"
The tailor looked up from carefully marking the cuff line on
Mulder's left leg, frowning. "Sir, you may wait all night if you wish,
but my seamstress won't be in until eight tomorrow morning."
"Oh."
The tailor stood, brushing the knees of his own pants. "I take
it this is an...important event, sir?"
Mulder tried a trademark lopsided grin on the man. "The most
important of my life, you bet."
"Then why are you waiting until the last minute to get your
tuxedo?"
Mulder hesitated a moment. "Because I didn't know until
Saturday that it was going to be the most important night of my life."
The tailor pursed his lips, considering this statement. He
seemed to come to a decision in his mind. "Does this...important night
have something to do with a woman?"
Fox just nodded.
The tailor continued: "A woman you've known for a long time...
but you've just recently come to realize that she is important to you,
I would imagine."
Mulder snorted. "You're a prognosticator, too?"
The tailor smiled. "No, sir, but I've been doing this for
close to thirty years. I imagine when you've been doing your job for
thirty years, you might just be as good at reading people as I am."
God, I hope so, Mulder thought.
The tailor reached out, grabbing the pants just below the
pockets on both sides and gave them a sharp tug. He stepped back,
checking his handiwork. "We're done, sir," he said. "Just leave those
pants in the changing room."
Mulder nodded, walked down off the fitting platform and into
the changing room. He dressed quickly, efficiently. A few minutes
later he emerged from the dressing room to find the tailor at the
front of the shop, holding the tuxedo's jacket in one hand and writing
on a pad with the other.
Fox reached into his pocket and took out a business card. "I
can be reached at this number whenever it's ready. I really appreciate
the rush job."
The tailor looked over his glasses at the proffered card. "I
was wondering if you'd mind putting your home address on the back of
that card, Mr. Mulder."
Something in his voice made Mulder obey without thinking.
Borrowing a pen, he quickly wrote his home address and telephone on
the back of the card and handed it back.
"Thanks again," he said, turning to leave.
"Have a good night, Mr. Mulder."
"Just gonna go home and watch some TV," Mulder said, almost to
himself.
The ancient cowbell clunked as Mulder let the door close
behind him. He looked at his watch and realized it was time to go
home. The Knicks would be playing in less than half an hour.
Inside the shop, the tailor waited for Mulder to start walking
towards his car. The tailor picked up the phone and dialed seven
numbers from memory, and waited for someone to answer.
"Doris...do you remember what happened on our wedding day?" He
paused, listening to the laughter. "How'd you like to help a very nice
young man avoid the same problem? Thanks...I always knew I married the
best seamstress in the business. I'll see you in a few minutes."
The tailor hung the phone up and started to whistle.
Sometimes, he thought, it just felt to be in his business.
Outside the store, Fox was walking towards his car. He was
glancing idly around, not really looking at anything, when one of the
displays in a store window caught his attention. He walked over to
study it, and the longer he stood there, the larger his smile got.
Perfect, he thought.
Just perfect.
***
No one had ever accused Dana Scully of not being compulsive. It
was Monday night, a full twenty-four hours before Fox was scheduled to
pick her up, and she was making sure that everything was perfect.
First, the dress...she dragged it out of the closet and tore the dry
cleaner's transparent plastic off of it. She checked it for any new
stains that might have creeped in, and satisfied, hung it on the back
of the closet door. She was on her hands and knees, digging through
the back of the closet for the matching shoes, when she heard her
phone ring.
Let the machine get it, she thought. And then another thought,
right on the heels of that one, made Scully start backing out of the
closet.
It might be Mulder, and she hadn't talked to him all day.
She made it just before the machine would have picked up.
"Hello?"
"Scully, it's me."
"Hello, me," she said, cheerfully. "How was your day?"
"Miserable."
"Why?"
Mulder heard the concern in her voice, and he had to chuckle.
"I know I'm going to sound like an annoyingly cute teenage boy when I
say this, but I didn't get to see you or hear you all day. That's why
I was miserable."
"Mulder..." Dana said, touched by his words and at the same
time a little exasperated.
"I know...I guess I just wanted you to know that I'm thinking
about you...and I'm looking forward to tomorrow night."
The silence was longer this time. Dana held her breath,
wondering if he was going to realize how inane this entire
conversation was. Finally, he cracked: "Gimmie a break, Scully. I'm
new at this!"
Laughing, Dana hung up.
***
It was late in the fourth quarter when the knock came at
Mulder's door. Frowning, he stood, his hand automatically going to the
holstered pistol on his hip.
"Who's there?" he called.
"Mr. Antonio," a muffled voice called. Fox recognized the
voice, but couldn't place the name. He opened the door to reveal his
tailor standing there holding a zippered garment bag.
Dumbstruck, Fox just stared. "Uh..."
"Mr. Mulder," the man said, "When I was your age...oh, maybe a
little younger, I met the most incredible woman in the entire world. I
made her my wife, in fact. On our wedding day, my tuxedo wasn't ready
because I didn't have enough money to pay the tailor the overtime he
needed to tailor it just right. I had to get married in the same suit
my father was married in. Smelled like mothballs.
"Anyway...I know you're not getting married...but I thought
you'd sleep better tonight knowing that you...were ready to go."
With that, the tailor handed Fox the garment bag, waved,
turned and walked down the hall.
Fox waved at the man's retreating back, shut his door and
carried the garment back to his bedroom. He hung it on the back
of his closet door and went back to watch the rest of the Knicks game.
On the dresser right next to the closet, a small black velvet
box rested.
***
"So...if there aren't any more questions," Mulder said,
glancing at his watch to make his point more obvious. The twelve BSU
investigators gathered around the long conference table all nodded,
and started to push themselves away from the table.
All except for one of them.
"Excuse me, Agent Mulder...I do have a question." Mulder
looked up into the face of Toby McIntire, the new BSU Wunderkid. Rumor
had it that he was trying to become the next Fox Mulder in the BSU,
the best, most successful profiler in half the time it had taken
Mulder to receive similar recognition. The entire meeting had been
dogged by this kid, his annoying, cloying questions designed to show
everyone how much better at profiling he was than the famous
Oxford-trained psychologist and FBI Special Agent Fox "Spooky" Mulder.
"What is it, Toby?"
"Well, Fox-"
"Mulder, Toby. You can call me Mulder." Chagrined, McIntire
just nodded. "As you wish. Anyway...I want to know how you figured out
that James Lee Dysan was going to be in that particular 7-11 store.
You remember the one...don't you, Mulder? You predicted that Dysan
would come out of his mobile home at exactly 10:03, cross the street,
and commit an armed robbery in the 7-11. We had that placed staked
out, and according to the Bureau records, he walked out at 10:04, not
10:03, and did exactly what you had predicted he would. I want to know
how you did that, Agent Mulder." McIntire sat back, his arms crossed,
a smug, infantile smile on his chubby, ruddy face.
Mulder stood there, silently fuming, wondering if anyone would
notice if he drew his weapon and put a third eye into the middle of
the little brat's forehead.
"Dysan, eh? Lemme think a minute....that was about...how long
ago...no, don't tell me...oh, right about the time you were...what,
Toby? Finding your first zit?" McIntire flushed as the rest of the BSU
unit burst into laughter at his expense, but he said nothing for a
moment, his jaw visibly working as he struggled to maintain control.
"No, really, Mulder...tell us. How did you know?"
Some of the other members of the BSU had turned their
attention to Mulder, eager to hear his explanation. By the time the
Dysan case had come along, Mulder's bona fides in the VICAP/BSU
program had already been established. He'd had no need to prove
anything to anyone. If "Spooky" Mulder said the suspect ate only green
chili, any FBI Special Agent finding a can of red chili at the scene
would automatically assume it had been planted.
"I guessed, McIntire, OK? I guessed."
"That was a pretty big guess, Mulder," McIntire said, his tone
so ingratiatingly insincere that Mulder wanted to punch him right on
the nose.
Mulder leaned down, gathered his leather portfolio together,
stood, walked to the door, and stopped. He turned back to face
McIntire. "Good thing I was right, then."
***
Mulder glanced at his watch as he strode through the Quantico
parking garage. It was three-thirty. He had to pick Scully up at
exactly six thirty, and there was barely enough time to get everything
done.
He got into his car, threw the portfolio on the back seat, and
had to make three attempts before he could get the key into the
ignition. He turned the car over and then held his hands up at eye
level, watching them jerk and shake as if he'd just had his sixth cup
of coffee in as many minutes.
"Like a surgeon," he croaked, lowering his hands to the wheel.
***
Dana stared at herself in the mirror. Everything was in
place. Hair perfect, makeup...just enough to cover the bad spots. No
more than on any usual day. Ok..maybe a touch more lipstick, but then
again...this was a formal occasion.
She stepped back from the full length mirror hung on the
inside of her closet door and did a small twirl. The strapless emerald
green dress sheathed her body snugly. It wasn't obscenely tight; she
didn't look like a tart. But it did highlight the natural curvature of
her body quite well, she thought. The only jewelry she wore was the
small gold cross and two faux pearl earrings. Her hair was up, as much
as she could put her hair up, in a small, tight French braid. She'd
tugged a lock or two out of each side of the braid, letting it fall
gently against her cheeks, just forward of her ears.
"Perfect," she whispered, and then glanced at the clock on her
nightstand.
Six twenty-eight.
Mulder...you'd better be on time, you....
***
Mulder slammed the car door and checked his pockets quickly.
He had everything he needed. He reached into the backseat through the
open window and retrieved the single red rose. Moving carefully, he
tucked it in at the small of his back, letting the back of his jacket
lightly cover the flower.
The black velvet box was in his pants pocket.
And he carried a videotape.
Glancing at his watch, he turned and jogged up the front walk
and into Dana's building.
***
Six thirty one, Dana fumed. He's actually-
The knocking was so sudden that Dana's hand flew to her chest.
Gathering herself, she walked over and opened the door.
They stood looking at each other for a full thirty seconds
before either of them spoke.
Mulder was blown away. Quite simply, he could not find his
breath. Dana was wearing a green, strapless sheath. Her hair was up,
and she looked like a vision in green. Her neck looked so long, so
much like a swan's, the skin below and behind her ears looking as soft
as the down on a baby duck. Dana Scully, the woman had met just over
four years ago, the woman he had seen covered in mud from head to toe,
drowned like a rat, in more quarantines than either of them cared to
remember, a woman he had seen covered in oil, fer cryin out loud, now
stood before him looking...
Looking...
Shit, Fox, give it up. She looks like a princess.
Dana's thoughts weren't much different than his. Fox's tux fit
him like a glove, the jacket tapered to his waist, the pants obviously
cuffed by an expert. She was touched that he'd taken the time to have
it tailored instead of just taking one off the rack. And by sheer,
obvious luck, the green of his cummerbund and bow tie matched her dress
exactly. Only a computer spectrograph would be able to tell the
difference, and for some strange reason, the lab was the furthest
thing from Dana's mind at the moment.
"Come in," she said, almost a whisper. As he moved past her,
Dana saw that he was carrying something.
Mulder waited for the door to close, and then turned to face
her. "Since it's such a special event," he said, offering her the
gift-wrapped box. Eagerly, Dana opened it, saw what it was, and
frowned. She started to look up at Mulder.
"Mulder...?" It was a videotape. "World's Best Truck Pulls,"
it said, featuring a huge monstrosity of a truck on the front cover,
something that had been built in some redneck's back yard, something
that looked like a huge metal monster and it was eating what appeared
to be a perfectly good 1996 Nissan Maxmima.
And then she got it, and laughed.
"Thanks," she said, "I'll treasure it always."
Mulder's grin was genuine. She walked past him to put it on
top of the TV, and Mulder used that moment to turn slightly to his
right, lift the edge of the jacket and draw the rose he'd hidden there
like a sword. When Scully turned around from the TV, he was standing
less than a foot away, the single long-stemmed red rose held in his
hands.
"For you," he whispered. Dana's face lit up with pleasure, and
her eyes went to the perfect flower. Fox had spent a good twenty
minutes berating the owner of the small flowershop down the street
from his apartment, demanding that the man find the perfect rose. The
man had come through, because this rose perfect; in full bloom,
it's red the red of pigeon-blood, of passion, of candy-apples and
corvettes. It wasn't quite the red of Scully's hair, Mulder knew, but
there was no red that perfect.
Except hers.
"Mulder...it's gorgeous!" she gushed. She took it from his
hands gently, turning it over in her fingers, leaning down to sniff
the delicate bouquet. "It smells heavenly," she whispered. "Just let me
get it into some water," she said, hurrying past him to the kitchen.
She found a bud vase and quickly filled it with water, and dropped the
rose into it. Finished, she turned and walked back towards Mulder, who
had, by now, removed the black velvet box from his pocket and was
hiding it behind his back.
"Ready to go?" Dana asked brightly.
"Not just yet, Scully."
Dana turned back, an eyebrow raised. "Something wrong?"
"Yes....definitely," he said.
"What?"
Mulder studied her, looked at her long and hard. Suddenly,
Dana felt self conscious. What? What was Mulder seeing that she hadn't?
She quickly touched the cross at her throat, and then checked the
earrings, making sure they were both still there. Maybe one had fell
out and she hadn't noticed-
"That's it," Mulder said.
"What? The earrings?"
"Yeah..." he said, nodding. "There's just something about
them...I dunno..."
Scully fought the rising frustration. Mulder had never noticed
anything she had worn before, and his own fashion taste was highly
questionable, judging by his collection of ties. These pearls, faux
though they were, went perfectly well with what she had on, and Mulder
was just going to have to-
"I was thinking maybe..." he said, bringing the box up from
around his back..."you might like something a little more...color
coordinated."
Scully's hand flew to her mouth, and her eyes flew to his. She
reached out with one shaking hand, almost afraid to see what was
inside the box. She took it from him, and the hinge was so tight that
she had to struggle for a moment before the box opened with a snap!
And revealed the most beautiful set of earrings Dana had ever
seen. Two darkly sparkling emerald stones stared back at her, each of
them surrounded by a circle of tiny diamonds...no, they must be cubic
zirconium’s, she thought. If those were diamonds...
"Mulder...it's gorgeous. They're gorgeous...I love them!"
"Try them on," he suggested, and Dana nodded, and turned to
dash into her bedroom. She stopped, turned back to Mulder and treated
him to one of her full-blown, one-thousand watt smiles, a grin and a
burst of energetic joy that about blew Mulder through the wall.
God, there's nothing I wouldn't do for her, he thought.
Scully reappeared a moment later, the twin green stones
twinkling in her ears. It was a perfect match; they looked like a
couple that had stepped out of an advertisement in Town & Country.
Mulder stepped close, tipping his head from side to side,
wanting to get the full impact of the earrings now that Dana had them
on. He'd been staring at them in the box since he'd bought them, but
they hadn't had justice done to them until they sat perched in Dana's
ears.
"Good thing I'm armed," Fox said. "Now that I've seen them on
you, nobody better try and take 'em away."
Slowly, the realization of what Mulder had just said sunk into
Dana's brain.
"They're...REAL?"
Her hands flew up to her ears, her fingers running over the
stones. No...it couldn't be...stones this size...this must have
cost...several thousand dollars...
"Mulder!"
"Let's just say...I melted my Visa card."
"Mulder...you shouldn't have!" Dana's voice was a mixture of
anger and sadness. "My God, Mulder...of all the-"
He stepped inside her space again, closing the distance
between them in an instant. One arm went around her, drawing her close
to him. The other hand went to her cheek, stroking the skin softly
there, tipping her face up so she could see his eyes.
"Do you like them?" he asked quietly.
"Mulder," she moaned, "I love them."
"Then I should have." Mulder leaned down and kissed her, his
lips searching for and finding hers, his fingers gently stroking the
skin of her cheek, the fingers trailing down and teasing her neck, the
hollow behind her ear, the small, bright, coppery-red hairs at the
base of her neck...Dana was falling, melting into this kiss, feeling
her center dissolve into a syrupy mixture of desire and want and
hunger and arousal...
"We'd better go," she whispered against his lips. "Or we may
not make it out of here..."
Mulder nodded against her mouth and pulled his own back. He
cast a hand towards the door. "M'lady...your coach awaits!"
===========================================================================
=
END PART VI
Comments, questions, etc. continue to be welcome. drambo@primenet.com
For those of you who are now ready to burn me at the stake because I
promised that VI would have the benefit-banquet thingie, I'm sorry.
This one just kind of wrote itself...sorry it took so long. That also
means that the banquet thingie has been pushed to VII and that...the
other matter...will be pushed to VIII. Sorry...but them's the breaks.
:(
"Snapshot 7:Delectable"
By Dawson E. Rambo
Disclaimers: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, and other tangentially mentioned
characters are copyrighted by Chris Carter, TenThirteen productions, and
by Fox Television, a unit of 20th Century Fox, Inc. All rights are
reserved, and these characters were used without permission. No
infringement is intended.
Classification: V+,MSR,A
Rating: PG (Some situations might not be suitable for all ages)
No sex. No violence. A kiss here and there. MulderTux. ScullyDress.
MulderQuotes. References to an espisode from Season 1 or 2, I can't
remember when. No spoiler, just a familer quote.
Note: The passages in German (be patient, you'll see!) are my best
guess based on about four hours hunched over a German dictionary. If
anyone out there speaks German (well...duh,) I'd appreciate any
corrections to my diction, spelling, etc.
Comments, questions, suggestions, etc. continue to be welcome.
Feedback is always appreciated:
drambo@primenet.com
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Taurus piloted by Fox Mulder gently pulled to a stop for
the red light. For perhaps the sixth time that night, Scully pulled
the passenger visor down, using the vanity mirror to look at the
earrings again. Her hands went to the stones, rubbing them with the
side of her finger. She dropped her hands into her lap and just stared
at her reflection.
Mulder's fingers were suddenly stroking her cheek, his touch
so light that it helped to see his hand in the mirror so she could be
sure he was touching her, that it wasn't a dream.
"Do you like them?" Mulder asked, his voice husky...low...
dangerous.
"I love them, Mulder," Scully answered, feeling some kind of
strange tightness in her throat.
Mulder waited a moment, watching Scully watch herself in the
mirror. "I've never seen you look more beautiful...Dana." Scully
closed her eyes at his use of her first name, a delicious combination
of a shiver and a tingle running through her body. In the strange
nature of their relationship, it was just so much more...intimate when
he did it. She turned her head quickly and kissed his fingers gently.
An impatient driver indicated that the traffic control signal
had changed with a copious amount of horn. Mulder made no move to
remove his hand. "Think I should flip him off?" he asked, his voice
teasing, light.
"Just drive, Mulder," Scully said, reaching to flip the visor
up. Mulder laughed softly, his chest hitching with gentle humor. He
turned his attention back to the road and let his foot off the break.
The car glided into traffic, and Scully took the opportunity to study
he man sitting across from her. Despite her intermittent protests
about how Mulder always got to drive, she did enjoy watching him at
moments like this. His attention was totally focused on the matter at
hand, his eyes sweeping the road, left and right, looking for dangers,
his strong, nimble fingers guiding the car through traffic like a
shark through the ocean, and yet, at the same time, Scully knew that
Mulder was completely aware of her, sitting next to him, how his body
language conveyed his ease with her, with them, their unspoken
togetherness.
She took another good, long look at him, and felt something
slowly uncoiling inside her, a moisture, a heavy, full feeling that
started in her stomach and slowly spread through her entire body, a
warmth that was totally encompassing. His tux fit him perfectly, and
Scully was quite sure she had never seen anyone look quite so dashing.
He'd even managed, somehow, to tame his hair for the evening. It
wasn't cut to Bureau standards by any means, but at the same time, it
didn't look like had tumbled out of bed, fallen into his tux and shown
up on her doorstep to squire her around the town.
The hotel hosting the banquet appeared on their right, and
Mulder slid the car into the line waiting for the valets. "Last
chance, Scully," he whispered. "We can ditch this thing, get a room,
order room service, fill up those big tubs with bubblebath..." His
voice drifted off, letting Scully's mind fill in the rest. Dana
grinned, a sly, wry grin. That was one of the reasons she had fallen
for Mulder, she knew. Unlike most men, he instinctively knew that her
mind could provide the missing details of what he was proposing much
better than any words of his ever could; he left the best parts
unspoken but not unpromised, letting her libido fill in the blanks.
And what an attractive picture it painted; in a flash,
Scully's mind had done just that, had filled in the blanks quite
nicely. She saw them in the tub, clinking delicate, narrow glasses of
champagne together, the bubbles up to their chins, both of them
gloriously naked, the warm, slick, glycerin-soaked water making them
both deliciously slippery and slick. She felt the color crawling up
her chest, her neck, into her cheeks.
"Mulder...any other time, and....but right now, I want to go
to this thing. I want to walk in and have everyone in that place see
me on the arm of the most handsome man in the District."
"You're dumping me, Scully? You got another date stashed
somewhere in the hotel? I'm hurt."
Scully twisted in her seat to make a retort, and then she saw
his eyes. They locked gazes, and his eyes spoke volumes about how
deeply touched he was at her words. She reached out a hand to stroke
his face, her nails lightly grazing the strong line of his jaw, and
then her door was being opened, the uniformed doorman offering Scully
his hand so she could step out.
Scully's dress was slit, but not immodestly so, but the
doorman was still treated to a delicious glimpse of Scully's leg as
she stepped out of the car. Mulder saw where the doorman's eyes were
and briefly considered shooting him.
Mulder got out, took the ticket the valet offered him, and
quickly walked around the hood of the car. Scully linked her arm in
his, and together, they walked into the hotel.
***
The main ballroom was decked out for the event. Over sixty
circular tables were scattered around, each of them with small
cardboard nameplates indicating the attendee they were reserved for. A
small registration table was set up outside in the hall. As Scully
took care of the paperwork, Mulder glanced around. There were many
couples there, many women dressed in their evening best, and most of
the men were wearing tuxedos. Mulder checked a few of the women out,
and realized with a small, private smile that none of them could hold
a candle to Scully. She was leaning over the registration table,
softly explaining something to the woman acting as registrar. He could
see the soft, silken skin of her right leg to just above her knee. Not
immodest at all, but knowing that that leg went all the way
up...ending only with the graceful curves that were at that moment
gently pressing against the dress in such a way to make their
delectable outline only that much more obvious, made Mulder's
breathing suddenly labored.
God, she was gorgeous, he thought.
Scully felt his eyes on her and turned her head, flashing him
a smile, letting him know that she knew he was looking, and that not
only didn't she mind...she appreciated his attempts to drink her in.
She straightened, walking over to where Mulder stood. "Good
news," she murmured. "No nametags." Mulder grimaced; he'd hated the
thought of having to stick one of those paper "Hello! My name is
Dorkboy!" tags to his tux. He'd wondered where Dana would have put
hers. The strapless evening down didn't leave very much room for such
affectations.
"That dress...Scully, I only have one question." Scully raised
her eyebrows, waiting. "Where do you keep your gun?"
Scully chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that resonated in
Mulder's chest, making his heart shoot off little sparks of heat and
energy.
"Wouldn't like to know," she grinned, once again taking
his arm and turning him towards the banquet room.
"Scully! Dana Scully!" a voice called, and the duo stopped.
Dana turned to face the voice, and saw Georgette Armstrong striding
towards her. Inwardly, Scully groaned, but fixed the best, most
plastic smile she had on her face. Without turning her head, she said
"Med school classmate. Georgette Armstrong. God, I hate her."
Mulder felt something from Dana, another silent channel of
communication opening.
"Dana Scully!" the woman said, stopping in front of her. "God,
it's been...what? Six years since I saw you?"
"Five, actually," Dana said, and in his head, Mulder heard the
unspoken part of her response.
Armstrong turned her attention to Mulder. "And who is this
heavenly creature, Dana? Where have you been him?"
Before Scully could answer, Mulder opened his mouth.
"Guten Tag. Mein Name ist Hans. Sie bitte, konnen Sie mir
sagen, wie ich das...?"
To her credit, Scully didn't blink, but just went with it.
"This," she said, using her hand to indicate Mulder, "...is Hans. He's
a German pathologist visiting from...."
"Deutscheland," Mulder offered.
"Yes, from Germany, but I meant...er, Berlin."
"Oh!" Armstrong said, clearly impressed. "What did he just
say?"
Scully bit her lip, trying not to smile. "He asked..."
Mulder reached out and touched Armstrong's gown, a tacky, ugly
thing that looked as if she'd bought it at Liberace's garage sale.
"Ich habe die Farbe night gern. Ich habe lieber grun."
Scully, who spoke German, was now struggling to control
herself.
"He said your gown is lovely," she managed to croak.
"Oh, thank you!" Armstrong said.
"Bitte." Mulder said, smiling. Scully looked at him and
crooked and eyebrow. "Wie hoflich die Deutschen sind!"
"Danke," Mulder said, and just as quickly, Scully replied,
"Bitte."
Mulder looked at Scully. "Entschildigen Sie, wieviel Uhr ist
es?"
Scully glanced at her watch and nodded.
"Es Ist zehn Minuten nach sieben."
Mulder nodded, and then turned his attention back to Armstrong.
"Fraulein, servieren Sie uns das Abendessen?"
Scully coughed into her hand.
"What did he say?" Armstrong demanded, her eyes alight.
"He wants to know...um...when dinner is being served."
"Oh, in about thirty minutes, I guess. Well...it was nice
meeting you."
And without missing a beat, Mulder replied, "You, too."
Armstrong's eyes widened, but she said nothing, turning and leaving
Mulder and Scully standing there, barely controlling their laughter.
"Mulder, you're impossible," she whispered.
"Bitte schon!" he said, smiling.
Mulder leaned down and whispered in her ear, "Sometimes the
need-"
"...to mess with their heads outweighs the millstone of
humiliation. I know, Mulder. I know." She kissed him quickly on the
nose, and then took his hand, leading him into the banquet hall.
***
The chicken was rubbery, the portions small, the peas and
carrots soggy from being overcooked. The wine wasn't much better, and
Scully felt bad for Mulder. He hated chicken with a passion, having
eaten more of it than he could remember in his years with the BSU,
attending meeting after meeting at police departments across the
country. They always ended up with some kind of banquet, and they
always served chicken. It was cheap and easy to prepare in huge
volumes.
Mulder had pushed most of his around the plate, eating a bite
here and there so it looked at least like he'd eaten some of it.
Scully had done a little better, but most of her meal remained on her
plate as well.
The conversation was stilted, forced, uncomfortable. They'd
been seated with a podiatrist, a dermatologist, an OB-GYN and
proctologist, as well each of their spouses, girlfriends, boyfriends
and significant others. A alien-chasing, paranormal forensic
pathologist and a faux German had little to say to any of them.
A couple of people had discovered that Scully worked for the
FBI, and had tried to engage her in conversation about her supposedly
exciting life as a Special Agent, but Scully has resisted telling them
anything about her work. Not that they'd believe that her last case
involved a combination of demonic possession, a potential UFO
visitation, and a tobacco-chewing sheriff that thought that 'little
ladies' had no business being in the FBI, let alone being a medical
doctor.
Mulder hadn't said much of anything, preferring to let Scully
"translate" for him. He made a few boring remarks in German, studying
the faces of everyone at the table to see if comprehension showed on
any of their faces. No one looked twice at him, focusing their
attention on Scully...especially the men.
Mulder turned to face her, and was again struck by how
beautiful she looked tonight. Even in her work-a-day business attire,
Scully was an attractive, interesting, challenging woman. But tonight,
in that...dress...that gown, she looked so much like a porcelain china
doll that Mulder had trouble keeping his hands to himself.
The band struck up a chord, and then began playing, a soft,
melodic dance tune that caught Mulder's attention.
"Let's dance," he whispered, taking Scully's hand. Surprised,
she said nothing, letting Mulder lead her out onto the dance floor. He
turned, and she slid into his arms, his right hand at the small of her
back, his left holding hers against his chest. They moved to the
music, hesitantly at first, until they both sensed the hidden dancer
in the other, and then they let the stops out just bit, enjoying the
closeness.
Scully sighed, leaning her head against his chest for a
minute, and then straightening up. She glanced around; a few other
couples had joined them on the floor, giving them some camouflage.
"I'm sorry, Mulder...I had no idea this was going to be so boring..."
Mulder chuckled, using his body to move hers around the dance
floor. "I'm having a great time, Scully," he lied. She smiled,
appreciating his lie, and telling him with her eyes that she knew he
was full of it.
"Just let me know when you want to go," he said softly.
"Two more dances, Mulder, and we can blow this popstand."
Mulder grinned at her. "Deal."
***
They made their apologies, Scully insisting that she had an
early day, and that "Hans" had to catch a plane back to Germany. As
they were walking out, Mulder caught site of Georgette Armstrong out
of the corner of his eye. She was watching them leave, and the woman
leaned over and whispered something in the ear of the woman sitting
next to her, and they both laughed. Scully didn't register the sound,
didn't know what had just happened, but Mulder didn't like the sound
of the laugh, and had some idea of what had been said, if not the
specific words.
Something about the Ice Queen, he was sure.
He waited until they were out of the banquet hall, but still
within Armstrong's sight. His hand came up and found Dana's shoulder,
stopping and turning her around.
"What-?" she asked, and that was all she managed to get out,
because Mulder's mouth was descending towards hers, and God, she had
wanted him to do that all night, since she'd seen him on the other
side of her door in that stunning tux, since they'd gotten there, the
entire time they were sitting at that cramped, overcrowded table, all
she wanted was for Mulder to lean over and-
Do what he was doing. His mouth was soft and hot and moist,
his lips gentle against hers at first, finding their specific,
personal rhythm, and then deepening, the kiss drawing and expanding
outwards, taking Scully with it, her eyes fluttering closed, her arms
coming up and around his neck, pulling him into the kiss...into her...
He stepped away, a glint in his eyes, a promise of things to
come, perhaps that night, perhaps at some time in the future.
"What...what was that for?" Scully asked, her voice faint.
"Payback," was all Mulder would say.
***
The valet brought the car around, and this time Mulder helped
Scully in, taking the opportunity to get his own lingering look at her
legs as she stepped in and sat down. She smiled up at him, knowing
that he was looking, feeling the warmth spread in her chest at his
appreciative glance.
Mulder got in and shifted the car into gear, smoothly sliding
back into traffic. They drove in silence for a while. After a while,
he finally spoke.
"Scully, I don't know about you, but I'm starving."
She laughed. "Me, too."
He glanced over, his eyes asking a question.
Hers answered.
He turned the car around.
***
Hugo's was exactly the right place, Scully thought, although,
considering the way she and Mulder were dressed, the other patrons
probably think we're the two oldest prom dates in the world.
The other patrons, mostly truck drivers, cops and other
nocturnal creatures, comfortably filled the rest of Hugo's Diner. The
atmosphere was casual, relaxed. Scully closed her eyes, wanting to
soak the atmosphere in. She could hear the faint tinks! of silverware
against coffee cups and plates, the low murmur of muted conversations,
the sound of something sizzling on the grill, the bing! as the cook
put another order under the heating lamps and hit the bell. She could
smell so many different things cooking, a mixture of grease and meat
and...good times.
She had lost count of the number of diners she and Mulder had
eaten in over the years. It must be in the hundreds, she thought. And
on the most special night in our lives...he takes me here. Bringing
back the memories of a thousand conversations over a thousand meals,
wild theories, debates about scientific proof, arguments over who was
paying the bill...
She opened her eyes, looking across the booth at Mulder. He'd
undone his tie and unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt. She
could see a few dark curly chest hairs peeking out, and the sight was
only just slightly distracting. He was studying her as she looked at
him, his hand lightly playing with his coffee cup, slowly twisting it
with his nimble fingers.
A plate that had once held a burger and fries was pushed to
the side, her own plate (tuna in a pita,) was similarly dismissed as
they studied each other.
"So..." she finally said, glancing pointedly at her watch. It
was quickly approaching midnight...the witching hour.
Mulder didn't answer her unasked question. Instead, his smile
widened a fraction, and he said, "Scully...you are the most amazingly
beautiful woman I have ever know." The blush started somewhere around
her ankles and raced up her body, coloring her cheeks and ears. "Thank
you," she said softly.
"No...thank ," he whispered, leaning across the table
towards her. "I could start telling you why I love you so much, you
know...all the times you've been there for me...your support for my
search...everything we've been through...but I don't want to do that."
His last words had been spoken hoarsely, urgently, and Dana suddenly
found herself having trouble breathing.
"What do you want to do, Mulder?"
"Take a walk," he said. He stood, pulling some bills out of
his pocket and tossing them on the table. He'd tipped the
beehive-hairdoed waitress almost 60%, but Scully wasn't going to say
anything. The look in Mulder's eyes drew her like a magnet, and she
stood to join him.
"A walk sounds nice," she said softly.
***
They walked down the street, not holding hands, but close
enough to feel each other's heat. Mulder removed his jacket and draped
it over Scully's shoulder, and she smiled her appreciation. They window
shopped, stopping to look at furniture and clothes and electronics,
pointing out what they liked and what they hated. Dana felt as if her
feet weren't even touching the ground, she was so happy. She couldn't
remember the last time anyone had treated her this way.
They stopped and looked in the window of another store, and
Scully saw a clock on the wall. It was five minutes to midnight.
"Mulder..." she said softly, leaning against his arm. "It's
getting late..."
"I just want to make sure you don't turn into a pumpkin,
Scully," he teased.
"Oh really?" she asked. Lazily, her arm snaked around his
neck, bringing his face closer to hers. Her lips reached for his, and
they kissed, bathed in the muted light from the store's interior. It
was a long, luxurious kiss that seemed to feed on itself, growing in
leaps and bounds, ebbing and flowing with their heartbeats. When they
broke, it was a minute past midnight.
"Satisfied?" she asked.
"Not yet," he grinned.
Her smile softened. "Take me home, Mulder."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
End Part 6
(I stopped using Roman numerals because it was getting confusing.
Plus, when we get into the chapter 36 range, I'll have to figure out
XXXVI and things like that...ugh)
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Snapshot 8:Delirious"
By Dawson E. Rambo
Classification : MSR,+V,A
Rated R for sexual content. Graphic, but not disgusting. :)
Author's Note : OK, folks...this is the one you've all been waiting
for. :) I want to take this opportunity to thank all the people that
have written with comments and encouragement for this story. The title
had come from the concept that I had planned on writing only little
'snapshots' of Scully and Mulder's lives, never really getting trapped
into the entire plotline-story thing, because I've been burned (ahem)
doing that before. But the story just kept growing and changing,
offering me so many new and interesting ways to explore these
characters. I hope you have all enjoyed reading this nearly as much as
I've enjoyed writing it for you. Fear not, those of you that have...
been so taken with the Snapshot universe. This is not the last chapter
of the saga...but it will be for about two or three days.
Summary: Like...duh. :) Well, for those of you who haven't been
following the Snapshot series...this is the one where S&M finally get
past all the torture and finally do what we've all been wanting them
to do for four years. (Anti-relationshippers, of course, excluded.)
Enjoy!
---------------------------------------------------------------------
The light in the hallway outside Scully's apartment was dim,
almost nonexistent. They walked slowly, taking their time, each of
them lost in their own thoughts.
Scully was as nervous as she could ever remember being. She
had been thinking about this moment all night, just as she was sure
that Mulder had. The door to her apartment approached, and it's
symbolism wasn't lost on either of them. What lay beyond it? What
delicious mysteries would they discover about each other? Would it be
a door opening on a new world, the beginning of an exciting journey
for the both of them? Or would be a door closing on a comfortable,
safe past, a place where they each knew the limits and boundaries?
Mulder was beginning to feel light-headed, and he hadn't had a
thing to drink since the glass of awful wine at the banquet. He knew
his dizziness wasn't from alcohol. His intoxication stemmed from
another source entirely. He was so hypersensitive to Scully at this
moment, so completely attuned to her, that the soft, spicy scent of
her was filling his nostrils with...jasmine. That was the overriding
sensation that he had at this moment, pure, full jasmine filling his
nose and exploding inside his head.
They arrived at her door. Scully had her keys out. She turned
to him, her hands on his chest, palms flat. "Well, Mulder," she
whispered. "This is it."
He took her hands in his own and smiled down at her in the dim
light. "Once we go inside, Scully...there's no turning back. Even if
nothing happens...we can never cross this bridge again."
She nodded, dropping her gaze. "I know."
"It's not too late," he kidded, moving as if to leave. Her
hands tightened on his, keeping him where he was. "Don't you dare
leave me, Mulder. Not this time. Not now."
"Dana...I doubt the entire HRT could get me out of your arms
right now." Mulder stared at her, his gaze taking in every soft curve,
the gentle luminance of her skin, the incredible blue depth of her
eyes, the delectable redness of her lips. He noticed for what seemed
like the first time that she had a slight overbite, and it made her
upper lip stick out...just a little bit. That one little flaw in an
otherwise perfect face had the opposite effect on Mulder; it made
Scully seem that much more perfect to him.
"Mulder," she whispered. "It's been so long....for me. I
don't..."
"Shhhhh," he said softly. "It's been a while for me, too,
Scully."
He loosened one of his hands from hers and moved it to her
face, tracing her features, gliding over the soft arch of an eyebrow,
testing the gentle curve of her nose, the silk of a porcelain cheek,
the roundness of her chin. His touch was incredibly light, incredibly
soft, and Dana felt herself start to melt.
He took the keys from her hand at the same time he leaned down
and kissed her. The kiss was hungrier than the others had been, more
passionate, more raw. There was naked, hungry need in that kiss, and
Dana felt herself responding to it, accepting the energy and
reflecting it back at Mulder, the intensity doubled, tripled. Mulder
managed to twist the key, his hand dropping to the knob and turning
it, using Dana's body to push the door open. They staggered into the
apartment, still kissing, and Mulder swung the door shut with the heel
of his foot.
Just inside the door, they stood, mouths gently, softly, wetly
osculating against each other. Once again, he felt the heated moisture
of her tongue against his bottom lip, and it had the same effect; his
blood pounded in his ears, his breath catching in his throat. It was
so understated, so personal and private; the thought of Dana licking
him was arousing in the extreme.
They broke for a moment, touching foreheads, both of them
breathing heavily. Mulder saw a light, a glimmer in Scully's eyes he
had never seen before in his life. The thought that he had caused that
glimmer, that he had it flashed through his mind, and his
arousal gained another notch, climbing impossibly higher.
Mulder started to speak, to say something, something
endearing, and Scully put her fingers against his mouth again,
silently shaking her head. The look in her eyes changed, shifted, and
Mulder read her thoughts as if they were his own.
No words. No more.
Her hands came up, carefully, slowly sliding his tie free of
the shirt collar. It dangled from her fingers for a long moment, and
then she dropped it. It fluttered to the floor silently, it's birds'
wings clipped.
Mulder's response was to move his hands to her braid. He found
the pin holding it together and slowly worked it out. Dana's coppery
mane fell free, and he ran his fingers through it, spreading it open,
framing her face with it. She seemed so small to him then, looking up at
him with unaccustomed adoration in her eyes.
he thought. Scully moved against him, tipping her head
up for another kiss as her arms went around his back. Mulder did
something he swore he would never do, it seemed so corny. But at that
moment, it seemed like the most perfect, the most natural thing in the
world to do.
His free arm came down as he stooped slightly, sweeping Dana's
legs out from under her. He lifted her in his arms, carrying her to
the bedroom. Scully sighed, putting her head against his chest,
wallowing in the feel of his arms around her.
The bedroom was lit by her bedside table lamp and nothing
more. He put Scully down at the edge of the bed. She smiled up at him,
her arms going around his waist. He felt the snick! a moment before
the cummerbund slid to the floor. His pistol was in an
inside-the-pants Bianchi holster just above his right hip, and a
moment later Scully had removed that as well and gently placed it on
her bedside table. Returning her attention to him, Dana started
unbuttoning his shirt, slowly, carefully, wanting to draw this moment
out, this exciting snapshot of discovery between two people who had
loved each other for so long, and would always love. As a girl, Scully
had dreamed of the perfect love, of finding Prince Charming, falling
in love, getting married, and having a house full of happy, laughing
and jumping children. As she'd grown older, that dream, along with all
her childhood dreams, had faded, until she was sure that she was
either going to have to settle for something substantially less in her
life, or give up the concept of true love forever.
Until she met Mulder.
She had two buttons open when she glanced up again, a small,
secret smile she had saved just for Mulder playing at her lips. She
had just enough room to slide her hand inside the shirt, and that was
what she did, running her nails across his chest, scratching lightly.
The effect was as if someone had taken an electric current and
applied it directly to Mulder's brain. He gasped, swayed, and grabbed
Scully's shoulders for support. She grinned. Withdrawing her hand, she
quickly finished with the buttons, tugging Mulder's shirt out of his
pants and sliding it down his arms.
She leaned in to him, inhaling his scent, that wonderful
mixture that made him so uniquely male. She kissed him, right between
his breasts, feeling the tickle of his chest hair against her face,
and she giggled.
His fingers were in her hair, pulling her tighter against him,
urging her to continue doing these delicious things to him. Scully
pushed him, moving him until he was facing her, his back to the bed.
She pushed him gently, and he fell back on the bed. She looked
pointedly at his feet and he quickly heeled both shoes off, leaning
down to peel his socks off as well. Scully quickly got rid of her own
shoes.
Scully stepped between his spread legs, putting her hands on
his shoulder, the invitation in her eyes unmistakable. Her eyes were
depthless, liquid, hungry, eager, worried, aroused. Mulder's hands
slid up her back, found the zipper tab and pulled it. The sound of the
interlocking metal teeth releasing was incredibly loud in Scully's
bedroom, and Mulder felt the lump in his throat growing, expanding.
The gown started to slide down her body, and suddenly shy,
Dana turned away, moving as if to turn the light off. Mulder stayed
her motions, guiding her back between his legs, his eyes telling her
that he wanted to see her, all of her, in her beautiful, perfect
glory. Dana closed her eyes and shivered as the gown fell at her feet
in an emerald fabric puddle. She stepped out of it, kicking it aside,
and-
Mulder's heart just about stopped cold. If anyone had ever
asked him if he expected to be seated on Scully's bed wearing nothing
but a watch, a pair of pants and a pair of boxer shorts while she
stood between his legs wearing an emerald green strapless bra and
matching emerald green panties, he would have laughed in their face.
But that was exactly where he found himself. There was a tiny
wrinkle in Scully's brow. He realized she was awaiting his approval.
Suddenly, he was ashamed of his magazine and video collection.
Pushing that thought from his mind, he leaned forward and mirrored
Scully's actions from a few moments ago, lightly pressing his lips
against her skin, directly between her breasts.
Scully gasped this time, feeling the first contact of his lips
there. Her fingers twined in his hair, pulling his face harder against
her, wanting more contact, more heat, more of his lips on her. His
arms went around her waist, and then she felt one of his hands cupping
her ass, pulling her tighter against him.
Scully thought.
She pushed her weight forward, taking both of them onto the
bed. Their lips met again in a slow, teasing kiss that did nothing but
make each crazier for the other. Mulder's hands were in constant
motion, moving up and down and around, his nails trailing across her
back, down to the curve of her buttocks, gently tracing the split
through her panties. Dana thought that the feeling of Mulder's finger
tracing her body through the silk of her panties just might drive her
straight out of her mind.
Mulder started tugging on the waistband of her panties, urging
them over her hips. Placing a hand on other side of him, she lifted
her torso, letting him get them off and down. They dangled around one
ankle for a moment as she kicked, wanting to send them flying into the
living room. Finally, they were gone, and Scully could feel his
arousal against her stomach, pushing against her, his heat and
hardness driving her closer to insanity.
"You," she whispered, demanded, her hands fumbling for his
belt, finding it, opening it, going for the button on his pants, her
fingers eagerly searching for his zipper, sliding it down, practically
ripping the pants off his body. Mulder stood, letting them fall around
his ankles, and then he was bending over, his thumbs hooked in the
waistband of his boxers, and they were sliding down and off and Scully
was with him, her arms twining behind her back, finding the catch on
her bra and releasing it, finding the confining garment free of her
skin at last, she threw it across the room, opening her arms for him
at the same moment Mulder was again upon her, his chest against hers
for the first time, the first real time, and they sank back on the bed
together, arms and legs combining, two separate souls finally coming
home as one.
Mulder was on top of her and his weight felt warm and
comfortable on top of her. Scully was aware of so many different
things at once: The smell of him, the feel of him, the taste of him,
the sight of him. His chest hair tickled her nipples, and it wanted to
make her laugh at the same time it was driving her insane, and then he
was lowering more of his weight onto her, and she felt her breasts
flattening against his chest and she gasped at the electric sensations
it sent through her body.
"Oh, God, Mulder," she whispered. "I can't wait....please!"
They had both known that this first time was going to be
quick, raw, nothing but lust fueling them. They had been so good, he
thought, so proper and right. Never betraying what they felt for each
other, even though they had both known it almost from the first. This
was overdue, he knew, almost four years overdue. Writers talk about
passion kept caged, about pent-up urges held in check by the
requirements of a decorous society, but they knew nothing, they were
all stupid, clumsy words and phrases. They knew of this
moment, this aching, eager moment of naked, unquenchable hunger.
Mulder needed Scully, needed her more than he needed to breathe. He
needed to be with her, in her, he needed to join with her and become
one, to finally and forever banish the demons in his life, in his
mind, in his soul to the darkest corners of his existence so he could
fill the